To be An Outcast
by HeadlessHedwig
Summary: Alternate Ending. This is an Exploration of the Ichani, Traitors and the Guild and how they are all one and the same.
1. Prologue  Dakova's thoughts on Life

**A/N** – **Hey Guys! Fic finally posted! Thanks for the encouragement Jaycest, HermitKnut, Ralobat and others I hope it does not disappoint *gulp!* This is my first Fic, written between essay number's two and three. (I need the sanity from all the madness of women in attics and Japanese Revolts!) Please be nice … I have no idea how this will be received my stories having gathered dust in a lovely bright pink Japanese- esque box with the intention they would never see the light of day for many years!**

**I think, (fingers crossed) this is going to be a long fic. In fact I know it will because I think I am incapable of writing one shots. There is also the lovely HUGE plot bunny which has been bouncing in my head incessantly refusing to let me concentrate on the aforementioned women in attics! This is the first time I have posted on Fan (have I mentioned this already … dear lord ramblings!) and if I make some silly mistakes please tell me otherwise I will never learn! **

**Anyway, the inspiration for this came when I read through the archive for this series of books and realised nobody has really looked at a life of an Ichani. I know they are portrayed as the bad guys, and this is understandable considering all the evil acts they have done. But, they are men as well and living in the wastes is not an easy life! It says in The High Lord when Akkarin is describing his years as an Ichani's slave that some were outcast because of an, "inability to pay bribes" which started me thinking 'they cannot all be bad right?'**

**I will leave that for you to decide!**

**By the way, please do give the poor punching bag of this first chapter a hug when you finish. Sonea ain't around yet and he needs it! (But bear in mind he is mine!) **

**Enjoy and please Read and Review if you have the time**

**Depressingly .. despite my earlier assertion Akkarin and all named characters (accept my OC'S are property of Trudi Canavan .. mores the pity! No law suit please!)**

***Deep breath* … now go read!**

Prologue

The Sachakan Wasteland

To Be An Outcast

Dakova was hungry sore and pissed off with life.

"_All I did was try and overthrow a snake of a King. Why has that got me here?"_

In a fit of irritation he slapped the hard sandy coloured ground beneath him wishing with all his heart that the harshness would transmute into something more akin to the surroundings cruelly snatched by the sad bastards who called themselves Sachakan Nobility. What a laugh! Noble they were not, thick, scared and under the thumb, corrupt to the core. Around them their country was being eaten by a monster greater than any Ichani, one which could not be stopped by evicting it to a deserted corner of the world and left to fend for itself in the hopes it would die and never bother them again. No, while this happened all they cared about was whether or not such and such a person had paid the latest bribe instalment so they could pay their own debtors and keep themselves safely up to their neck in plots on top of plots.

Mother Nature, a much greater more ruthless force; unstoppable, not open to any negotiation be it underhand or blunt, and everybody knew Sachakans did underhand very well. Ha! Let them try and force her to conform with their plans for their country. What an irony. Sachakans were at war with each other split into factions all fighting for a throne and the ability to influence events. But, soon there would be no throne, just a pile of sand and ruins. Influence? Pah! If they could influence the sand to stop spreading then good luck to 'em! At the end of it all the Guild of Kyralia would get their way some Lord Nervalen, getting his wish and the Wastes actually obliterating the place helped along in no small part by the bitterly feuding factions who remained ignorant. Let them curse casting out the one man who knew of this and who could have saved their arses. Well he would not help now. What was the saying? Ah of cause … If you cannot beat 'em join 'em.

Lord Narvelen would be dancing in hell!

A deeply tanned hand was immersed in the water directly in front of him. The stark contrast of the coldness on his skin when the rest of it was burning up due to the oppressive heat was a sensation he revelled in. Granules of sand unstuck themselves and floated out to the deeper areas of the pool, carried by some eddy he had stirred up. Strange that now he was in the Wastes his life had been stripped away and carried off, leaving what he was now. Political games and intrigue took a back seat out here, nobody cared if you were once a cousin to a powerful Ashaki, or indeed were one yourself. No. Life was simple. If you had something the other Ichani had you took it in any way you saw fit. The fighting, like the life style was straighter, more obvious and no less vicious for it. Part of him enjoyed this aspect, it didn't involve a hidden agenda something he had wrestled for years as an Ashaki. Even relatives tried to kill you at court. Thankfully he and Kariko were close brothers, the youngest not concerned that due to the way Sachakan society was set up he got no inheritance it all passing to the elder. There had been an uncomfortable few years between them, but that was due to a woman, a bloody Traitor woman. Quickly she had been dealt with and harmony restored to the pair. Sneaky bitch wanted them to hate one another in order to precipitate a feud in which one, or both died, getting rid of two of the most powerful men at court. Now, the association with his brother was one he relied on in the Wastes: possibly a reason he had entered his sixth year as an Ichani while around others fell, unable to defend themselves in the cutthroat world that made up Sachakan life. Kariko had remained at Court after his brother's eviction, but some slimy git had ousted him as continuing the plot Dakova had been involved with. Most of the Ichani specialised in working in the shadows, out and out war was something they had to get used to quickly, Black Magicians or not, hence the reason most of them lasted all of ten minutes in the Wastes with its directness. They still had no solid idea who had foiled the plan, but they had an inkling, and if intelligence was correct he was just beyond the rock walls that isolated the lake, weak and hiding in the mines. Revenge would be sweet.

Behind, evidence of his invincibility laboured with four other slaves to set up camp before the sun set casting the dead land in darkness. It was hot now but in less than an hour it would be bitterly cold, icy, and easily capable of causing a man to lose a limb if it was exposed to the temperature long enough. Winter in the Wastes: as vicious as the fighting. "Master?"

The voice knocked him out of his musings. Without taking his eyes off the water he asked "Yes" in his best I-am- busy- this- had- better- be- good tone. As it was he recognised the harsh inflection on the honorific without the use of his eyes, only one man was able to make it sound like an insult when it was supposed to be the anthesis. Filing it away for later punishment he waited.

"The camp is set up. Takan is asking if you have any particular requests for food."

This question made him smile inwardly. The food games were amusing in the extreme. Takan was a talented chef and that was saying something when it was taken into account the limited fare they had in the environment. However, if he knew it, there may be liberties abused which were better left as they were. He had also noticed how the older slave had attached himself to the most troublesome addition, and as said addition harboured some very un-slave-like thoughts regarding his master it could be dangerous. Poisoned food was the easiest way to kill someone without magic even in the wastes. "Tell him to exercise whatever he sees fit. But I want fed within twenty minutes."

The invincibility evidence grimaced at this, knowing that without magic to aid, it would take a long time just to boil water. Open displays of emotion from the man were becoming more common, especially since the death of the bed slave. The determination to survive had dimmed in his gaze and he walked with a hunch to his shoulders. In fact, the torture had lost some of its appeal because the slave just took it, staring with dead eyes and waiting until he could crawl out of the vicinity of his master.

Thinking about this made him angry. Part of the slave's job was to amuse him, prove that he could still control something. This meek acceptance grated purely because there was no fight. Previously there had been spitting, name calling, escape attempts and death glares. There was a kick to be gotten out of knowing a member of your supposedly, "all powerful" enemy was reduced to the antics of a child, with no more strain then it would take to heat the pot of water which was about to give them such a headache. There was still a kick in his utter meekness because at the end of it all he was one of the most powerful magicians Kyralia had and he was utterly defenceless, but the fun had gone. Perhaps killing the bed slave was a bad idea, and not because of the loss of her bedroom skills. "Akkarin, do you think your lover is watching you?"

Tenseness entered the skinny man's frame, as it did at any mention of his dead love interest. _Serves him right. _"I am sure you do not really care that much Dakova"

Finally Dakova turned to face the slave seeing the emotion he heard in the utterance portrayed on his face. Gaunt and dim with a growth of hair down to his waist he was a totally different man to the one who had stumbled into camp four and a half years ago in rich robes, well groomed and confident in his own ability to get out of any situation. "What makes you so sure Guild Rat?"

Silence from him. There was another irritating trait; the utter silence he was met with whenever the magician did not want to answer a question. While this could be seen as the missing sign of defiance which gave so much pleasure, Akkarin knew if Dakova wanted to know that much it was easy enough to break through the barriers of his mind and search it out. Whichever way it was studied Akkarin was a man who had given up. Suddenly the anger which had been building within the Ichani burst its banks and Akkarin was thrown by a blast of magic into the lake landing with a deep splash. FIGHT ME YOU BASTARD!

Standing he began to follow Akkarin into the water. The physical representation of what he was feeling was too much for him. Akkarin was the person he did not want to be, resigned and beaten. Yet with every passing minute in this deserted land he could feel the despair stalking stealthily, long fingers feeding his mind and making him more and more depressed. What would killing the bastard who had put him and his brother in this situation do in the long run accept assuage their hurt pride for a few days? At the end of it they were still outcasts, Ichani; hated with no possibility of escape due to a combination of the monarchy and their distrustful natures.

Further out in the water Akkarin had managed to right himself large eyes watching the approach with obvious fear. Yes! So he still had not accepted death. This made him feel instantly better. Akkarin regained his usefulness. Scared Magician?

Black hair sent a cascade of water shooting through the air as he took stock of his surroundings, looking for any way to make this as painless as possible. In situations like this one Guild Training came to the fore and it was amusing to watch, even after all the years they had had together. Like this he could imagine he was up against the Guild as a whole, Lord Narvalen, whom the Guild had no recollection of. The fact Akkarin still fell back on his old training when it had proven so ineffective for so long just proved his stubbornness and stupidity. It was like he clung to it, the one thing familiar in a land of unfamiliar. He would pay for it, as the Guild would eventually. Kyralia would be his new start; his escape.

The future was going to be a brighter one, even if he had to suffer for it a bit longer.

Akkarin screamed.


	2. Is Tangibility a Measure of Existence?

**Authors Note (Yes another one!) **

**Hello Guys! Well tis the Easter Holidays (insert Jig here) which means I have a little more free time to devote to writing! Waaahey!**

**However, York Saint John University have felt it prudent to give me three assignments totalling eight and a half thousand words … this means Easter will not be quite so free *shakes fist at her lecturers* **

**Also, the past month has been a blur of Doctors visits A&E dashes and a physiotherapy appointment … life is not good! **

**Death has been on my mind as a consequence, and perhaps inevitably this little thread was born a bit differently from what I had originally planned. I have gone down the philosophical route (which is immediately obvious by the title of the Chapter … oh to be abstract!) I warn you it is equally heavily. I don't think I can do fluff … or anything remotely resembling it! I do apologise and if you are a new reader (or an old one) looking for something chirpy and cheerful THIS IS NOT THE FIC FOR YOU! Although, as I have it all planned there is the possibility of a happy ending . . . I am going to dangle the carrot and not tell you either way otherwise, what would be the point of reading? *evil smile* If you wish to stick with it I would love you all forever! **

**On that note I would like to thank you all for the reviews on TBAO. They have really made a difficult few months' worth it! I would like you to review if you have the time, but also if you feel my writing deserves it. **

**This is rated for sheer sadness although I hope you find it bittersweet rather than utterly depressing! If not I need to go back to the writers drawing board! (Or should that be 'Writing Board?') Also, it gets a little "amorous" towards the end. There is nothing too bad (although this is at the limit for me and my imaginings in that department!) I am a fan of the asterisks but I just figured I would give you a warning **

**I will be back with my lovely Ichani in the next chapter **

***Chains her fingers together so she is unable to make this A/N any longer!***

**NOW GO! **

Chapter One

Is Tangibility a Measure of Existence?

"I c_an't deal with this!"_

Even looking at him was tingeing everything in red as the rising feeling of anger settled dangerously behind her eyes. Red that reminded her of blood; the blood she had seen him covered in on the night that had started it all, and the blood that would end it all as well, running onto the golden sand in less than twenty - four hours' time adding its dark, irrevocable stain to the its brightness.

With a bang the door to her bedroom closed, the sound reverberating through the house and making the other occupants shudder. Slowly, the black robed man in the centre of the group moved to an armchair and settled in, making a conscious effort to remember the feeling of sinking into its comfortable warmth. The other two followed suit definitely less comfortable!

An uneasy silence descended, nobody really knew what to say. There were only so many topics you can cover with a man sentenced to death the next day, for crimes so heinous they would go down in Guild history with the same distaste as the Sachakan War. That was saying something.

"So," said the doomed man in a tone that didn't even try to sound cheery. In line with what they had learned over the last couple of days, the voice, which inspired terror on an average day, made them absolutely petrified. They thought bitterly he would die the same way he had lived his life; blunt, and as emotional as a block of ice, an especially stubborn block of ice. "What is the plan for my last night of freedom since my Novice has barricaded herself in her room, my servant has been sent to live with the Thieves, and you two seem content to allow me to stare at your nervous expressions?"

They fidgeted self-consciously, red Warrior robes twiddled in shaking fingers. "This is your last night of life Akkarin, the decision is yours within reason." The man who spoke was one of the more forthright Warriors. Lord Balkan had chosen him for Akkarin's guard because he would not be scared to do what was necessary if his prisoner attempted an escape. It helped tremendously that between them the two Warriors held a very respectable store of magic. Now Akkarin's magical strength had been ascertained, and he had agreed to execution because Sonea was spared, they did not feel the need to have twenty warriors shadow him everywhere, although there was another Magician stationed outside the Residence door in case things got messy. Silence held sway for a time longer and suddenly their prisoner sighed. "I suppose I will get very drunk whilst waiting for Lorlen to tear himself away from all the hype. Enjoy it while it lasts!"

Alcohol was collected from its place with both men in toe, following like well-trained Limek. Akkarin returned to the chair without bothering with a glass, swigging from the bottle with a determined glint his dark gaze. "Care to join me? You look like you could do with a stiff drink!"

Both men declined, as he knew they would. Shrugging he took another gulp listening to his Novice who was creating an interesting series of noises above his head. "Do you think there will be anything of my room left by the time she has finished with it?"

No answer. Akkarin sighed again, looking around the room which had been returned to its former glory now the search was finished and the Guild had determined his guilt. Sitting like this, wine in his hand, house spotless around him and Sonea upstairs, it was possible to think things were normal. His Novice would come down the stairs, Takan would appear from the kitchen where he was in the process of cooking a culinary masterpiece and the three of them would go to the dining room and chat. But things were different, the wine he loved was being drunk out of a bottle, the need for a glass none existent. Takan was away somewhere safer and current company were so ridiculously uneasy in his presence it was almost funny. The only thing the same was that Sonea was irritated with him. She was always irritated with him for one reason or another, and in the early days had avoided his company completely. While this had changed recently, the old Sonea, always ready to dart out of danger was the most hammered into his brain, the one he had seen the most of even before she had been forced to be his Novice.

Resigning himself to a trying final night in Kyralia until Lorlen made an appearance, or Sonea saw fit to speak to him again after her temper tantrum, he tried to coax conversation out of his unwilling escort.

Sonea could not remember thundering up the stairs, couldn't remember entering her old Novice room and certainly couldn't recall wreaking the devastation she saw on coming to herself, curled on the floor by the bed. Books, clothes, and anything she could grab were strewn about in a fit of anger and frustration. The chair of her writing desk had been hurled across the room with such force the legs had snapped off and the bed no longer had sheets intact.

Seeing it she rested her head back on the floor as the reasons for the destruction returned with a force that sent her heart into her boots. Sobs made her body convulse, bringing with them salty tears which trailed into her gasping mouth and flooded her taste buds. They travelled down her nose so her sense of smell was overtaken by them, and when she was gasping for air to breathe so she could continue sobbing hysterically, it was all she could sense, wetness collecting into a puddle by her head.

Crying takes a lot of energy to maintain and soon enough she was asleep, her body unable to provide for it.

Waking again sometime later the familiar jolt of realisation took hold dimming her perceptions of the room she had once, not so long ago, felt comfortable in. This time she sat up, feeling wet strands of black hair stick to her equally damp face. Surveying the destruction she grimaced and stared dejectedly at the floorboards digging her nails into her palms.

'_He is dying soon. All this will be gone. He'll be gone.' _Moving her head she looked out the window to see a dark sky and a full moon casting a silvery light in the room in the shape of her elaborately decorated screen. Wavy disjointed Guild symbols were reflected on the wood inches from where she huddled, and a part of her decided it was not a poor representation of what had become of the Guild she loved. Disjointed and changed beyond recognition. One of the little symbols had a well placed break splitting it in two down the middle.

Madness indeed!

It would not be long now. Pulling her knees up to her chin she encircled them with her arms tearing her gaze away from the window. If she listened hard enough she could pick up noises from the floor below.

From what her brain could fathom of the messages her ears were sending it there was a conversation going on between a large group of men, Akkarin among them. Straining she recognised the voices of their escort, and Lorlen, who was laughing at something she had not picked up. The sound jarred. _How can he laugh when the world is about to be a much darker place and not just because Akkarin is dead?_ To say she was unsettled and a bit pissed that they were laughing together was an understatement. The fact Akkarin should be having a good time in his last hours on Kyralian soil amongst his friends didn't register. All she could see was her own selfish grief.

Half an hour later she heard a different quality from the voices downstairs. Movement interspersed their conversation; a number of feet headed to the stairs of the Residence, leading up to where she was. Everything felt heavy and fatigued. While her mind allowed the red hot anger to return in preparation for her guardian's arrival, her body protested at acting it out, so, when the door of her room opened and a figure so familiar in the dark robes stood framed in it, taking in the destruction, she just remained sitting amidst the bombsite, staring at him. Behind him stood the two escorts and Lorlen in his blue robes of office, but she totally blanked them keeping a hold of her anger for all it was worth.

"Little Novice," said the source of it.

"Piss off!" Utter spite coloured the words. "You may as well!"

He sighed and pushed the door wider getting a better view of what was left of the bedroom. His black head shook as he took it in and he entered leaving the others by the door watching. "Sonea… please, if I am to die tomorrow I want to be on speaking terms with you."

The spite was something so fresh and so strong she used it eying him as he closed the gap with the gaze of a particularly vicious animal who'd spotted a very tasty dinner. "If you want to remain on speaking terms with me you should have shut your bloody mouth and denied the sentence! You stupid, self-righteous martyr! It's not a good thing to die uselessly for a cause! I hate you for this!"

Akkarin stopped a few inches from her, looking down at her with a crestfallen gaze. In it she could read the sadness that utterance had caused, and part of her hurt for it but there was no way she was retracting what she'd said. "You promised you'd protect me; you promised you'd never leave. Suddenly her voice was pathetic sounding, their gazes broke and she returned hers to the floor unable to let herself see a face that disappeared for good in the morning. Her mind jumped to what it meant to be without him, to be alone in a Guild that looked on her with fear and suspicion because of what she had done. In a way it would be no different to what it had been before, when she had been just the Novice from the Slums, all the speculation and funny looks would be the same, just for different things. Destined to always be an outcast, and it was partly to do with him.

Energy infused her body a replenishing force built on a second wave of anger. He was leaving her to deal with animosity, backing out at the last minute and leaving her to cope with the consequences of _his _dirty secret! True the Guild itself would never be the same coming to terms with the news as well, but she had to face the consequences, one of which being the fact she was trapped in the Guild grounds for the rest of her life! Why did he get the easy way out? She was up in a flash attacking with a screech of pure animal intent. The desire to hurt him took over all her other senses. The red was back with a vengeance.

Startled, it took Akkarin a second to protect himself, hands coming out to grasp her flailing wrists. "Sonea!" His voice was stern. Part of him thought it may be prudent to erect a barrier but it was pushed aside. "I don't want to leave you! I never wanted to!"

Wild eyes fixed on the three men by the door, Lorlen the one she wanted. "You don't believe us! This Guild will be slaughtered because you and the KING are executing the one man who can help you; the man who protected you without you knowing for years! Your friend! We should just hand Kyralia over to the Ichani now and have done!"

"Sonea," Akkarin attempted to warn her tightening his grip on her wrists and desperately trying to make her look back at him. Thankfully he had his back to the door so couldn't see the stricken expression he knew Lorlen wore.

"Don't!" She bit his utterance off before he'd even begun. "When you told me the truth; when I killed that Ichani I expected your death! I wanted it at one point! But even though I expected it I never thought this Guild would order it!" Finally her mad eyes returned to his, releasing Lorlen from their piercing glare. "Akkarin, I cannot function without you and this house! I know you have ordered Takan away, I know you want me to stay and continue to help in any way I can but I can't!"

Like a broken record he repeated her name this time with no trace of sternness. In fact it was as pathetic sounding as she had been seconds previously full of pain. Arms hooked around hers pulling her closer to him. Begging now, "Please … don't say it…"

Her tearstained face pushed right up in his insistent. "You might as well die knowing all the facts! Lorlen and our escort as a witness! Dorrien, Ceryni, they never stood a chance! Since you told the truth; since I nearly saw you killed I have feelings for you above and beyond the Noviate crush I will be accused of later!"

He gulped, unable to tear his eyes from hers, so close. His body reacted instantly to the news heat spreading throughout. What was there to lose when he was dying tomorrow anyway? Her breath was gusting in his face in uneven gasps forceful because of the heaviness of it. Hair a mess, face red and blotchy from crying, she had never looked more attractive to him. The whole point of this last night had been so he could tell her the whole truth regardless of how it left her. Regrets were something he had many of and he wanted to face death with as little of them as possible. There were some he would never solve, like his mad wish that he had never gone into Sachaka in the first place. But what he could fix, he would. However, it was terribly unfair for him to say, 'sod it!' for one night of passion when she needed to continue to live after he left. It was part of the reason he had not said anything before now, backing away from the awkward subject. "I am going to die tomorrow and you tell me this now?"

"All the facts," she repeated. "Know what it is you are giving up High Lord! You tear me away from the one place in the Guild I felt at home, you teach me things and make me witness to acts which will change my life, acts which I will dream about 'til I die and how do you justify it? 'Sonea, I am _all_ that stands between the Ichani and destruction!' Yet you stand there and meekly accept a death sentence because it was ordered by the institution you have fought to save for years! Not only that though, you expect me to live on guild arrest, protecting them! They do not want to be saved!"

I loved you for the fact you did all that; continued to fight despite all the odds saying there is a good chance you will fail! You sound like a hypocrite and I can't love a hypocrite!

Fight! Where has it gone huh? The Akkarin who scared the living shit out of me – yes Lorlen shit! What's he done? Grown legs and walked out of here unable to take the heat now? Has all the irony slapped him hard on his arse and he's run scared? "

A pause in her rant revealed to her he was smiling, one side of his mouth curved upwards. Seeing it she stamped her foot in irritation. What's so bloody funny? YOU – ARE – INFURIA –

Quickly he leaned down pushing his mouth hard against hers. The desired effect occurred and she was silent replying with a ferocity he expected but which still caused an involuntary gasp. Pulling away he pushed her hair off her forehead stroking the side of her face with a thumb. "Your one liners are legendary."

"I am not dead yet! Neither are you therefore, 'Legendary' is an overstatement!"

He cocked his head thumb trailing down her face and resting under her chin. "You call me the infuriating one?"

"Technically I didn't finish!"

He rolled his eyes hands leaving her face entirely and wrapping around her hips. She allowed him to lift her up onto his own hips, securing her new position by hooking her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. Both of them had forgotten about the audience watching them by the door. "But you are by the way absolute – "

"I will not let you finish that sentence!"

"And you are going to have to lock me up to stop me killing your executioner before they kill you!"

"I love you Sonea."

Her face lowered smothering itself in the black of his robes. Muffled sobs escaped and the anger fled. '_This is going to be one of the final times I am going to be able to touch her, to feel her near me to see her angry beautiful face.'_ For the first time since the whole saga began; for the first time in their memories, the audience saw Akkarin cry, tears evident as he turned on his heel to face the door gripping Sonea to him with white knuckles. On his approach the three escorts parted quickly swivelling to watch his progress across the hall to his room.

"Akkarin?" Lorlen spoke a sad taint to his voice. Briefly Akkarin turned and nodded, an understanding passing between the two men born of years of close friendship. Wordlessly Lorlen gestured the other warriors down the stairs. There would be no need for their presence in the room.

The door to the High Lords bedroom opened and closed, the two sentenced magicians disappearing from view. Lorlen exhaled and followed the other two men down the stairs listening to his openly speculating cohorts. Not only would he be devastated when Akkarin died, he would need to watch Sonea very closely.

The two Black Magicians settled on the bed, Sonea curled into Akkarin's lap, face obscured finally silent. The sudden difference in both the surroundings and her quietness was something he noticed wearily. Things were suddenly simple with the trial's outcome. There was a matter of hours before the battle was over for him and faced with his impending death at long last all he could think about was the woman huddled in his lap: family, friends, the threat from Sachaka were pushed to the back of his mind. His family would arrive in the early hours of the morning, travelling from Elyne, so there was nothing he could do for the minute. The other important matter, Lorlen, had been solved, he had been forgiven. Outside of the sadness that he could not have saved the Guild, that they were about to start a battle for their lives without his help, and his regret that Sonea was going to pay for her involvement, it was all he cared about. There was nothing he could do about those worries now.

"We have some time little Novice. You can release me and I won't go anywhere for the present."

In answer she just fidgeted pushing her body as close to his as their positions allowed. It didn't take a genius to realise she would not relinquish her cutthroat grip and the sweat he picked up on himself would be filled away in her memories, vivid because of the circumstances. _'I do not want her last memorable smell of me to be sweat!'_ Gently, like he was handling an especially precious artefact from his travels many years ago, he slipped his fingers under her chin and eased her face up to his, leaning down so they were inches from each other. "I smell Sonea stop sniffing me like an animal!"

There was a glint that entered her gaze which warned quite sharply she had a retort for him. Closing his eyes he allowed himself to really feel what it was like to have her against him, pressed tightly to his chest so he could hear her heart beat in time with her breathing. The mouth which infuriated and fascinated in equal measure touched his jaw opening against his skin and trailing kisses down over his throat and under the top of his robes. Wherever it went a rush of heat followed setting his nerves on fire. When she latched briefly onto the rise in his throat he inhaled surprised and tilted his head back automatically. "We are animals Akkarin, fact."

Taking advantage she pushed him back to lie on the freshly made bed. Arms braced on either side and his mouth was covered. Reaching up with a hand he cupped the side of her face feeling her jaw move as she kissed him. Very quickly it deepened and both sets of hands moved down caressing. Akkarin was very quick in getting beneath her tearstained robes, the robes she had worn since their discovery, more familiar with them. Sonea on the other hand struggled, this both her first experience of sex _and_ full Magicians robes. A sound escaped that gave more evidence to her animal theory and suddenly his hands lifted from her back tangling in his own robes and pulling. The sash was quickly discarded and with its disappearance Sonea was quickly back on track. When her hot palms pressed down hard on his naked back the noise returned, louder, almost a growl. Hands gentle a minute ago hardened and insisted she was right against his chest face smothered in skin. Without conscious awareness she found herself under him, one of his legs pressed between hers, his mouth acquainting itself with parts of her body he had only imagined.

A wave of something she could not identity burned through her body as her lovers mouth touching somewhere that made her blush. Akkarin felt her arch beneath him and moan. The sound of it and the expression of sheer bliss on her face caused him to grin wolfishly continuing with a determination in his gaze anybody else would have been scared to see. Curious he reached out with his mind, seeking and gaining admittance in seconds. Emotions rocked him slapping so hard he could have blacked out. With the emotion came the realisation this was a new experience for her and his grin just widened considerably.

Soon, neither cared that they both sweated, that the sharp smell pervaded their nostrils, too taken with the taste and touch of one another. There was only the here and now, the High Lord's room, the bed and their feverish skin, craving any and all contact. Sonea would look back on it with a glaze to her gaze that left no doubt for anyone who witnessed it what she was thinking about.

_His_ tears were what Sonea now felt on her shoulder, tangible for a moment; but, such is the way with water exposed to heat, they evaporated, leaving nothing behind but a memory.

Like he had never existed.

A/N … please don't hate me! *Hides under the bed*


	3. Can Death be the Victors Reward ?

**A/N**

**These are going to be a controversial couple of chapters. (I like toeing the line!) **

**Whilst writing this I became extremely frustrated by the lack of descriptive information Trudi gives about the Ichani, so I have made some assumptions and employed my artistic licence. Please let me know what you think!**

**Warning, equally as philosophical as the previous chapter … *points to title.* Hope it makes sense when you lovely people read ;p**

**Getting inside the High Lord's head is hard work, even for me and my twisted thought process. These Chapters were originally one but the sheer volume of ground I had to cover, and the nature of the split I am exploring demanded I split them into two. Thank you Laura Scofield for the advice! I tried to contrast the two men directly, at the same time as showing their similarities. Please do tell me how I managed in the reviews. This is a technique I like the idea of, and one I would like to use in my original Fic.**

**Having read "The Rogue," I now know who has possession of Akkarin's missing Blood Gem. This plays into my hands wonderfully here! *Thanks Trudi!* However, I have subverted it slightly (as I wrote this before The Rogue's publication. I can easily work it in however! **

**Despite the OC not being the person who has the blood gem in the books, it is possible he is not an OC … I will leave you to mull this over … if you need help guessing look on the forum of Trudi's website … she ran a competition ;P **

**Note on the Rather Complicated Formatting.**

**I think it is important to note that the big bits in bold, where it is not obviously mental communication, is the Ichani in Sachaka, their situation as it stands at the same time as Akkarin walks to his death. I hope the reason becomes obvious. This is an experiment. It'll probably fail epically. *crosses fingers***

The bits in_**bald italics, **_are the mental communications of the Ichani and sometimes their thoughts although if it is the latter's case I tend to keep them in a bigger paragraph.

The big bit at the end of the second chapter in _italics _is mental communication which addresses both the Ichani and the Guild Magicians. I know this all sounds complicated but I think it will become clear as you read. If it does not let me know in the reviews.

**Also, Akkarin is a hard man to keep down … remember that … :p**

**Now go! :p**

**Chapter Three**

**Can Death Be the Victors Reward…?**

In different parts of the world, separated by mountains, two men looked up at the dawn. One was surrounded by grandeur, the other austerity, but they had reached a mental likeness of which neither was aware … yet.

"_Today's the day!"_

Akkarin touched a hand to the glass he was staring through, not really seeing the sky or feeling the cold as it came into contact with his warm skin. It _was_ the day, his final day, his final dawn, his final breakfast. In less than six hours he would be dead and the Guild would face its worst enemy yet, on a battle field where motives and revenge did not matter. Dakova's acerbic tone made itself known then, never really far away from his thoughts; despite the distance death had created between them.

'_What are you going to do to survive, pet? Crawl into a ball and pray to whatever God it is you lot worship? Fight back and hope I make a fatal mistake? Your Guild reckons team work and intelligence ensure survival, but is that really true pet? What happens when it is just you and the enemy? When you are as alone as it is possible to be, without any back up or teamwork, how will you survive? What has your precious Guild taught you is best? I know that is what you want to do, it is what I am trying to do, but who will win Akkarin, when it comes down to it?_

Akkarin had not known the answer then. He still did not know the answer on either count seven years down the line and that irritated him. Dakova was dead, so that battle had been won, but there was a greater war at stake now, costing many more lives. It often occurred to him in moments like this whether it would have been better to die then, under his captor's torture, but the damage had been done as soon as he had accepted the Ichani's hospitality. By surviving, and returning to the Guild he had delayed the inevitable for a time and at least the Guild had a shot at survival, which they lacked at the start.

But, if he had not followed his own selfish boredom he would not have put the Guild in this position in the first place. By sacrificing himself early on he may have dissuaded some of the Ichani who were now massing in the wastes to invade. It was the visible ease of control that Dakova held over Akkarin that had convinced the Ichani in the early days. For all Akkarin fought against the choke hold, it was futile until someone had taken him aside and shown him the forbidden secret to black magic. Maybe the Guilds philosophy of the welfare of the majority over the individual was ingrained rendering him incapable when he was truly alone. They looked after the individual, very well in fact, and remembering the many bouts in the Arena, when it was twelve against one, his teacher had always told him to use his head, there was always a way out of something if you knew where to look. But the Guild was built on teamwork; every important issue was debated with every full member present, by mind link if necessary. They were told at the Graduation Ceremony just after becoming fully fledged magicians of the Magician's Guild of Kyralia that they were now fully responsible for the country if the King requested their aid, and they would only succeed by relying on one another. Even as Novices, competition was encouraged, and while this helped the needs of the individual it pushed up the attainment of the team.

Had the Guild been partially to blame then?

He did not know.

The slave and his master had not been that different, then. Both fought for survival out of desperation, knowing there was something better in the world than what they currently faced, aware that they were both equally alone. Their backgrounds could not have been any more different, one fighting in a court that emphasised individual survival and one raised in relative safety in a society that valued team survival. Yet, they had found themselves in a similar position. Dakova had painted survival out to be the only option, sharing Sachaka's and the Ichani's belief that it was 'survival of the fittest.' Akkarin had agreed with it, alone and vulnerable as he was, without the support network of the Guild, and it had been what drove him in his battles with his 'Master,' to be 'the fittest.' But he was wrong, and Dakova was wrong. Death was not the coward's way out, nor was survival the victors reward.

Knowing Sonea would have time and a safe place to fight against the Guilds prejudices towards the lower classes, knowing children would have a safe place to be children, lost in their imaginations, and knowing many people would appreciate the day to be with loved ones, blissful in their ignorance, was the victors reward. Akkarin had been responsible for the Guild for five years as its High Lord, but really he had been responsible for the people's welfare much longer.

And he had made the wrong choice. He had doomed them all before he had even started and he deserved this punishment.

- I hope you are happy, you bastards!

**Kariko was happy. Kariko was very happy. At the same time as Akkarin contemplated his life choices surrounded by the High Lord's Residence and his lover, Kariko sat with a very full glass of ruby coloured wine encircled by dangerous men, looking up at the dawn. To say he did not care in the slightest that it was another day beginning of fighting was an understatement. It was his final day of fighting in the Wasteland, his final day of scrounging for food and his final day of sleeping in a tent! Every dull barren stone was shining with brilliance, the mountains in the distance glittered invitingly, no longer a physical wall that hemmed him in, but a gateway to better things. Even the other Ichani were suddenly his best friends, people with which he could share his immense joy.**

**Today was the day!**

**The irony was just the icing on the cake. Some god had taken his side and was smiling on him, it had to be the reason everything shone so brightly, the sunlight bouncing off the beings pearly whites and refracting back to the landscape tainting it in the glow Kariko now saw. The Guild was executing **_**him!**_** It was like a dream come true! Not only that but they were mentally communicating with the Magicians stationed in other parts of the world, transmitting a view unlike any other into proceedings. Everything Akkarin had tried to conceal over the years with the murders of the slaves was falling down around his ears, and it was happening in spectacular style! Pretty soon, once the other Ichani had seen the show and discovered for themselves what he and his brother had been trying to say for years, they would be able to go after Kyralia and return it to the Sachakan Empire, where it belonged and would stay. **

**The collection of Ichani who surrounded him was a motley bunch. Feared, respected and hated in equal measure, they looked no more frightening than a bunch of badly malnourished mangy animals. Mob would be a far more accurate descriptor of both their countenance and their suppressed thoughts: incompetent, incoherent, and irrational. Like everything else though they hid behind their noble upbringing. Beefy scarred hands held delicate glasses in a grip that spoke of their past. Their lives were harsh and more than one hand had wrung a man's neck but the hold on the glass was gentle and light. Contrasted with their harsh animalistic appearance it just looked incongruous and wrong.**

**But it did not matter!**

**They were eying one another with a familiar hungry glint, living up to the animal metaphor, scenting the tantalising aroma of fresh meat. Amongst their number was a handsome Ichani that Kariko had not seen before. Well-built and opulently dressed he screamed of a recent fall from grace; a **_**very **_**recent fall if the lack of holes and dirt was anything to go by. He was on dangerous ground surrounded by hungry veterans. **

**The whole point of this gathering was so Kariko could offer them all one final chance to join the cause before he set the plan into motion. The more Ichani willing to join the fight the more likely they would survive, so the appearance of a new Ichani was something he accepted as another good omen. Watching the death of the man who had caused many of them to lose precious slaves would only serve to unite them in a feeling of shared justice. If he could do that, give them a common denominator, and prove irrevocably that the one man who stood in the way of a full on invasion was dead, then their dream, his and Dakova's, was inches from becoming a reality. For this reason the dogs would need to wait until he had ascertained the new boy's metal before being allowed to do what they did best. One veteran, a long- time supporter of his scheme was eying the arrival with barely disguised interest. Bald and sharp featured, of all the Ichani this man was the personification of the stereotypical outcast. It helped considerably that his reputation was one that even the Kyralian King knew of, although, he was not fully aware, the Sachakan King doctoring events to keep the existence of less welcome members of his country a secret.**

**If he achieved this, the Kyralian King would know exactly what Sachaka was hiding. He would know they were not as weak and broken as was believed. The Ichani had lived with the belief that they had some measure of influence, such was the fear of them within the normal population, especially those citizens unlucky enough to own land near to the Wastes. But the reality, which they had deluded themselves into ignoring, was, that amongst the court they were pointedly not discussed, and the world at large had no idea of their existence at all, demonstrated by the utter ignorance of Dakova's killer. On top of this, they roamed one dead piece of land, unable to leave without meeting a resistance only overcome if they worked together. They would not do that; every last one of the wastes of space was here to see whether they could widen their own influence, not the Ichani influence as a whole but their own individual plight.**

**That was about to change.**

"**It's so close Dakova!"**

**The desire to skip across the Wastes was such a strong one it had to be restrained with every ounce of determination he possessed. It was not sealed yet; Akkarin still walked the earth, a free man and the surrounding Ichani still radiated an animosity that was tangible. But it was tantalising. He could smell the Kyralian Sumi from where he sat, feel the soft fabric of a grand chair in a grand hall his for the taking. What would it be like to look out over houses, over fields of greenery and landscaped gardens instead of the endless repetitive landmark-less fallow land of the wastes? His eyes craved stimulation like his stomach craved an excess of good food. Hunger drove his entire being, causing it to shake with a violence that put the alcohol in his glass in danger. **

**With the lack of an outlet he laughed, he threw his head back and he howled into the sky letting the force of the emotion out through his mouth. For good measure, knowing it would piss Akkarin off no end he sent it across a mind link, in response to his assertion. Let him hear how happy he was now; let him have undeniable evidence to take to his grave!**

**- Sleep well my pet I am watching you!**

Shivers ran the length of Akkarin's spine. There was no mistaking the glee in that voice, it dripped off in sickening mental waves that were as merciless to the mind as the real things would have been to his physical body. Memories of such days played through his mind at that train of thought, sunny days swimming by the ocean with his family. They were over now, but they had been over before this.

Somewhere, just out of sight of his window was the Arena where his life would be as over as those innocent days. The Guild had not executed somebody in well over one hundred years. Documents were being consulted as to the correct procedure and he could easily envision the furore the palace was in. The Guild had accounts of executions, but many of them were out dated, of a time when Black Magic was not illegal, and as a result was utilised to drain a body, cancelling out the danger of magic exploding at the point of death, destroying everything within a certain radius, including the executed cadaver. Considering the circumstances he doubted very much they would use the same method, but that left them with a problem.

"_How are they going to execute me?"_ As was becoming the norm he had no idea. The Arena was the obvious choice for the location but the '_who'_ was not so obvious. Whoever carried it out had the unenviable position of living with it until they themselves died. The King, lacking all magical potential, couldn't carry out the sentence so it had to be one of the Guild Magicians. Unless they asked Akkarin to release all of his magic on his own. That would be the best case scenario, leaving everybody else blameless but, it meant he had to summon up the power to end his own life. Leave Sonea and the Guild; to all intents and purposes commit suicide. If it meant Sonea remained free of all association then he would submit, but things were up in the air, unclear to the point of opaqueness.

'_My magic has returned.'_ Assessing himself he saw that his natural power had all but replenished itself, twenty –four hours more than enough time to recover. There was going to be a considerable bang when he died, the Arena was in for a battering. It was a waste of magic. The Guild would need all they could get to help in the coming fight. If he drained himself it would mean less damage to the surroundings. If he gave it to Sonea it increased her store, always preferable since Kariko was waiting to launch an attack as soon as the execution was over; if he did it before they left the room the Guild did not need to be any the wiser.

However, if he was going to give her his magic he may as well give her it all. Waste not want not as the phrase went. He did not need to pass it over using Black Magic, lessons in the Arena had shown his novice how to accept and store power with a conventional method. But Sonea would not go for it. Her voice in his head was berating forcefully for being so stupid.

Sometimes, things needed to be done that nobody liked.

"Hey, you are cold. Come back to bed." Sonea made herself known then, choosing that moment to wrap her arms around his waist, pressing her warm chest against his cold back. The opposition didn't go unnoticed. His life was on the way out whereas she was just beginning hers. She would go on and teach the Guild a thing or two. The King would not know what hit him when Sonea gained a seat in amongst the Higher Magicians. He knew she would, being the Guilds resident Black Magician would mean she had to have a say in matters, even if it was just so the rest of the Guild could keep an eye on her, monitor her thoughts as well as her movements.

But she had to survive his mess first.

'_Please, whoever is out there watching, let her live to kick the Guilds arse into shape'_

His lack of a response made her tut into his shoulder. "Will you accept a penny for your thoughts?"

Silence for a time longer. He picked out the quietness of her voice and rightly equated it to regret and sadness. There would be plenty of time for that when he was gone. Turning away from his window onto the outside world he looked to the inside smiling as he saw the dishevelled black hair and inquisitive glint of his lover. "You do not want them, Sonea."

Before she could answer the negative and argue with him he leaned down and kissed her not stopping until her attention had been suitably diverted from his thoughts. "I can't believe you are going through with this!"

Hearing the fresh tears he clung to her not trusting himself to speak. The tight grip was returned and closing his eyes he tried to forget the glee in Kariko's laughter and the subsequent dark thoughts. To think he sounded evil would be a cliché; he was not evil, not really. He had resorted to assassins in revenge for his brother and failed every time thus far. The mad happiness Akkarin had heard was seven years of pent up frustration gaining an outlet as something finally went his way. Akkarin knew he was deemed as evil by the institution he fought to save because of his forbidden knowledge, and what he had _done _with the forbidden knowledge. The Ichani and the High Lord were not that different. Kariko was after revenge for his brother, who Akkarin had killed to survive. Conversely Akkarin had killed Dakova in revenge as Dakova had killed the first woman Akkarin had loved. '_Would I not want revenge if I was in his place?' _It was a vicious circle and it was set to continue, many more innocents drawn into a battle that should have been between two men and two men alone.

This was not a fruitful train of thought. Desperate to get out of his own head; and not hearing anything downstairs to signal his families arrival, he returned to Sonea, kissing her so roughly she gasped pressing her hand over his mouth at the earliest opportunity. "Akkarin?"

The rebuff was too much for him. Spinning out of her arms he strode to the wardrobe where his High Lord's robes were hung along with the clothes he had used to sneak into the Slums. Sonea had seen the look on his face as he had turned away and as a result refused to drop it.

"Akkarin, come here."

He stopped in front of the wardrobe closing his eyes and feeling his hands shaking by his sides. Those words had been uttered to her so many times. _"Sonea come here. Come here and let me teach you how to kill a man with black magic. Come here and I will use you as a hostage to ensure my dirty secret stays secret."_ They had switched roles. She would walk with the Black robes he was discarding, be the one they feared, tripping over in their haste to get the bow out the way whenever they saw her in the corridor. It was not a life, it was a death sentence. "Don't become like me, Sonea. Don't become so cold and hard faced that people avoid you. There are people who love you and know the secret. When I am gone do not under any circumstances punish the Guild for doing what they thought was right. They will remain my family, and yours."

Sonea pulled a face, but whether it was at the previous utterance or Akkarin himself, he could not tell. "Akkarin, _come here!_"

Deciding it was a mixture of both he closed the gap between them concerned for his own well-being. "I am not offering any money for your thoughts this time, High Lord. You are going to tell me what it is you are thinking or me and you are going to have a falling out."

There was no arguing with that demand. Her voice had been forceful, and as a result frightening, but her demeanour was terrifying, way out of proportion for her height. If that was how she dealt with the more troublesome members of his "Little Family," the rest of the Ichani would not stand a chance. "I am thinking that you are going to be a formidable woman."

Tutting she crossed her arms. "You are a terrible liar." Some of the sternness in her face lessened however as she continued to regard him, softening to resemble something akin to what had been on show earlier that night. "I am scared Akkarin. It cannot be anything compared to what you are feeling though, please talk to me."

A sigh escaped him. Many things had been on his mind. Whilst Sonea had fallen asleep for a few precious hours his brain had been on overdrive turning the situation over and over until he was thoroughly sick. If he wanted her to go along with his desires he would need to play it carefully. There was still things he needed to tell her before the end and time was growing alarmingly short. "I have three blood gems remember me telling you?"

Seriousness made her take his cold hands squeezing them tightly. The fact he was talking cheered her. Soon she would not be able to hear his voice. "Yes."

One of them is to Lorlen, the other is to Takan and the final one is to a man who can help you. I have told him what is happening and he will contact you shortly. Can you remember how to make a Blood Gem?"

There was a moment before she answered, running through the procedure in her mind to double check. "Yes."

"Remember how, they are an invaluable device and I have a feeling you are going to be alone at the beginning. Our story did not go down very well. Sit tight and help will come. I will let my contact explain this to you. Someone is at the door."

Sonea opened her mouth to protest but a purposeful knock stopped her short. Akkarin dropped her hands and turned to the wardrobe intending to make himself decent. Such was the gravity of their predicament it had escaped her that both of them were not exactly attired for cultured company. Holding her tongue, knowing Akkarin was probably desperate to speak to his parents, she followed him to the wardrobe. There was no way she was wearing the old robes, sand and sweat ridden as they were, and it did not seem right to wear the brown of a Novice when it was questionable as to her full fate as a Black Magician. Akkarin was a man who thought of every scenario however. Reaching in he pulled out a clean set of his robes and passed them behind, not even looking to see her expression as a full magicians' robes were placed in her hands. It took no time at all for him to locate another set and begin to dress, hiding all the evidence of his slavery.

Sonea stood with the material in her hands staring dumbly. They were the High Lord's robs. They signalled power and status to those who saw them, demanded respect. There was no way, after all that had happened that she could demand that, no matter what she believed. It was what the Guild as a whole assumed that mattered, and they did not believe her or Akkarin. Or at least they believed the worst of him and nothing at all of her. However, it was fitting considering they were black magicians and the material of the robes were as black as it was possible to be. It felt cold in her hands, not the hardy wool of the Novices attire, but an altogether smoother, more startling fabric that reminded her of water, slippery, itching to pool on the floor and make an escape.

Akkarin finished and turned, seeing that she had not begun to dress. Winding his arms around her he began to manipulate her into them, divesting her of the robes and folding them to fit with a briskness that spoke of many years of such an act. Sonea stopped moving allowing him to do what he liked. As he worked she watched his face locking eyes with him and studying intently. Years running around underground rooms had turned his skin white, although his time as a prisoner in the Arena had gone some way to colouring it. Scars were more obvious this close, one just below the hair line and another snaking down under his chin. Now she had spotted them it was hard to see how she had missed them for so long. Reaching up she touched his chin with a finger stroking lightly. Dressed in_ his_ robes, inches from him, he engulfed her. The robes smelled of him, a combination of the Guild and whatever scent he used to disguise the sharp sweat tang. His hands settled on her waist finished with their ministrations but he didn't move.

"I love you."

Standing on her toes she kissed his mouth letting that answer his statement. It took immense will power for him not to take her back to bed. Stood in his robes as she was with that tender expression he was put sharply in mind of what she would look as the Guilds first High Lady. It was out of the question now but the image was a vivid one. "Come on I want to introduce my girlfriend to my parents!"

Forgetting about hair and shoes, they focussed on the mundane every day act many people went through at some point in a romantic relationship, leaving the room hand in hand.

"_- I am not dead yet Kariko, Sonea will obliterate you!"_

'_**I wouldn't mind if she obliterated them.'**_

"**How much longer, Kariko?" Avala spoke, an Ichani who had been an ally for years. She was a beautiful woman, or, as beautiful as you could be in these surroundings. Dark hair, wavy and with a slight red tinge framed a typical Sachakan face, lean and angled as was the norm in this territory. Most of her origin was also typical, daughter of an eminent Ashaki she had been sent to the court in order to further her family's fortunes, be it with a few well –placed murders or an advantageous marriage. Autonomous in the extreme she did what she wanted and if it did not fit with everybody else then it was their loss. When this was over Kariko wondered about putting himself forward for a bit of bed sport. A willing partner eclipsed slaves most days, sometimes the meekness grated on him. Most slaves were trained, did not have a choice in the act; Avala would. However, convincing her of the idea might prove difficult! "I want to see the show!"**

"**Not long now Av, we are just waiting for the esteemed High Lord to leave the Residence and enter his place of execution. Sentimental bastard has bedded his novice and asked to see his parents before he dies!"**

**Dark laughter at this issued from a number of them. Interestingly the new Ichani remained quiet watching the others with a deeply distrustful gaze. Something about the handsome face and dark green eyes reminded Kariko of someone but it was difficult to remember who. His brain was pre-occupied with expectation. Seconds were ticking by slowly, but every one that passed he marked subconsciously. One second closer to life. **

"**Are we sure that this Sonea will not cause a threat?" The speaker was the new Ichani and his voice was as deep as his distrust. By verbalising his thoughts it gave the other Ichani a reason to scrutinise him openly, calculating gazes as easy to read as the Guilds mental communication. His appearance spoke strongly of an Elyne ancestor. Golden hair long and tied at the nape of his neck was the most obvious feature as, contrasted to the other dirty Ichani; it was one of the brightest colours in immediate sight. Sachakans as a race had considerably darker hair, although it was not the black of the Kyralians. Brown eyes, slanted at the corners and framed by groomed blonde eyebrows spoke of his Sachakan inheritance. Coupled with the leanness in his face and the tanned skin which matched the gold of his hair he would never be mistaken as anything other than Sachakan, but the contrast with the Elyne would make him an interesting man to any female. Trade was a difficult art in Arvice. What did a country have to offer the world when the agricultural land that once provided it with one of the richest economies in the world lay in a fallow spreading mess? They had things to trade with the countries to the north for the food they needed to survive on, but it was hard, harder than it should have been, thanks to Kyralia. Anything even microscopically foreign, different from the tiring norm of make-do-and-mend would cause a stir.**

"**If we strike early she will not have time to convince the Guild to give her magic. They greatly out number us but they do not trust her! It will take time for them to sort out what she is allowed to do, whether she would be able to use magic at all. Now is the best time. Once we are rid of Akkarin we are home and dry!"**

**Harikava, the bald headed man with the sharp face, and Avala nodded enthusiastically supporters of Kariko. Both of these Ichani deserved their exile for what they had done. Together, no doubt attracted by each other's mutual wealth and disgust for the monarch, they captured a group of Kyralian Merchants, who were brave enough to come to Sachaka to trade. Once caught and subdued the mad pair had tied them to a stake each and tortured them until they all died. This had been done in secret for many months. The Merchants' disappearance had been reported by family and the King of Kyralia had begun to look into it but nothing was found. Being a powerful Ashaki with his own holdings it was easy for Harikava to hide the bodies as long as nobody suspected him of foul play … and he paid the correct people the correct money. Once they were dead he had decided to make a point to the Kyralian King and sent a body part a month back to them wrapped in a cloak baring the Kyralians King's incal, and the words, "Let your people die as slowly and painfully as ours." The fall out had been huge. The Sachakan King had no choice but to deal with the wayward man and his conspirator, labouring under the misconception the Guild knew Black Magic and could therefore wage war if nothing was done.**

**Nothing was straightforward though with Sachakan Politics. The Sachakan King was as embroiled in plots as his courtiers, in a bid to keep his tenuous claim to the throne, so they had been banished instead of executed, (although Kyralia were told the latter). It also helped that, (according to Harikava, under the influence), one of the Kings officials had thanked him the day before he was to be cast out. Said official had a vendetta of his own to settle with the Sachakan King, and whenever Harikava got the chance he would maintain quite forcefully, that it would be a matter of time before the King was dead, murdered in his sleep. Ten years later said official had been executed, and the King still had his pampered, fawned over backside on the Sachakan Throne. **

**Avala was understandably pissed off with the turn of events. It had been Harikava's drunken boasting that had pinned the crime on them. The story was that he had gone out drinking one night in celebration and let rip, excited to be doing something against Kyralia. Unfortunately for them, one of the listeners had been a King's spy. Even worse, he had been a spy uncorrupted by the bribes most of the others of that society were turned by, and scarpered back to tell tales. The fight between the ex – lovers had been explosive, and given the other Ichani a very good fire- works display when they had first entered the wastes, driven out by the King. Avala now understandably kept away from Harikava, and preferred to work following her own desires.**

**Current surroundings would not be to her taste!**

**All in all Kariko was pleased to have both of them on side. The tension between them was palpable but so far they were united by the goal that had brought them together in the first place. If they were occupied with plotting against one another than at least it meant they were less likely to plot against him! Dakova would have berated him for being a wimp, but, being the eldest brother, and the one full of grand ideas about progression and survival, this was normal. Next to Dakova Kariko had been the quiet one, little but able to make up for his misleading appearance with his ruthlessness. He was under no illusion that he was the violent one of the two. The brawn to his brothers brains. Yes Dakova was a violent man, a trait they had inherited from their father, but his intelligence lay in his planning, he had a mind that rivalled the best philosophers; the taming of the wastes being a popular muse. Kariko wanted some of those plans to come true, and he would do so in any manner he saw fit. It was time to prove that he was not merely the "brawn," but had brains too, even if that meant that:**

**Sometimes you had to do things, trick people into believing things and be associated with people, you didn't like.**


	4. And Continued Life the Punishment?

Chapter Four

And Continued Life the Punishment?

"They didn't come."

There was an awkward moment while Akkarin processed what the note said. Sonea remained near, desperate to read the piece of paper emblazoned with the Delvon symbol but she restrained herself. Akkarin's openly emotional expression, so out of character for him, was enough to dissuade her.

"I'm so sorry my friend," Lorlen's lowered voice spoke in the confines of the guest room, concern written all over his exterior.

Akkarin stayed motionless; then suddenly clenched his fist, scrunching up the paper in a violent movement that startled after the period of inactivity. "They have disowned me. I am "an embarrassment to the Delvon family and I am no longer affiliated with their noble house."

"House politics is a bastard!"

It was Lorlen who attempted comfort, pushing aside the anger Sonea could not. 'How could they do that? He was their son!' Inwardly fuming she looked to the window where a carriage was pulling away at high speed returning to Elyne now the damning message was delivered. They deserved to be in Akkarin's place. If they were the ones facing death maybe the execution would be vaguely pleasurable! "Is that what an Ichani feels like when an enemy gets what's coming to them?" That thought was not a comfortable one, and it was something she did not have the energy to face now.

The two most powerful magicians in the Guild remained stood in the middle of the room, arms clasped in a semblance of comfort mindless of Sonea's thoughts. Reading Lorlen's expression it was hard to tell who was on the receiving end. Watching them it was obvious a mental conversation was under way, private because of the skin contact. Respecting them both Sonea moved to stand with the guard who looked as uncomfortable as she felt.

After some time Lorlen nodded decisively tears in his eyes that were reflected in Akkarin's. They parted and after squeezing hands turned back to the room at large. "You have half an hour Akkarin."

A single nod, the time of friendship had passed, he was now the sentenced magician dealing with the Guild Administrator. "I will finish getting dressed. Sonea?"

Briefly, shutting her eyes she moved to him, allowing one shaking hand to hook around her waist and steer her up the stairs side by side, mindless of how narrow it was. The enclosed space provided a reason for him to pull her excessively close showing the depth of the letter's effect on him. Everything was quivering and it was with an emotion completely opposite to what it had been mere hours ago. Nobody spoke, entering the room they finished getting dressed and gravitated toward the bed at a loss for anywhere else to go. Saying sorry, drawing attention to the loss's cause would only exacerbate matters and in the grand scheme of things it was about as useful as a book was to an illiterate. Thankfully he saved her from having to find something to say.

"I should have expected that."

She took a deep breath before answering collecting her thoughts. "You should not have expected anything like that!" If I could get my hands on 'em they'd be in for a lot a rub!"

The digression into Slum Slang made him regard her critically. The threat itself was disregarded a product of the plainly displayed anger which blotched her cheeks a bright red. "Leave it. They are my problem Sonea Slumdweller."

A disgusted noise answered him and she crossed her arms cutting her off from his grip. "You are their son! If I had a child I could never do that! Especially for the sake of reputation and politics! Akkarin …" she turned to face him shifting her weight by the hip. "The more I see the more I think these people need a shock. It seems like they don't want our help. Only when we have been proved irrevocably right will they come crawling begging and apologising for their treatment desperate to cling onto their tiny pointless lives scared of death and what it means! How is that fair when they have the power to send you to a death you do not want, are not ready for by a long shot? What makes them so sure that they can?"

These barrages of questions were ones he could not answer and he did not attempt to. If she needed them answered then she did not understand what he was sacrificing yet. It would come in time when she had more experience of the world outside of the Slums and Imardin. True they needed a shock, and they did not have the power to order a man to death unwillingly, but there were other things under the surface. Soon Kariko would reach them on swift feet. If Akkarin's death did not knock them into motion then Kariko certainly would. In order for that to happen, for the population of Kyralia to really value their lives, this had to happen first. By no means did he consider himself a martyr; that was too loaded a word, implied he was a faultless human, willing to end his life abruptly for a worthy cause. He was not, not by any stretch of the imagination. It was his fault they had reached this point, and he was going to face the consequences. If, by his death, people began to question themselves then so be it, it was worth something. But that was a bonus and a bonus alone.

He knew what it was to have every value you treasured tortured and destroyed, re-assembled only for it to happen again. The Wastes had been a terrible time in his life, one he hoped nobody ever lived through again, but it had taught him valuable lessons. Lessons he would take to the grave. He had learned them well and it was time someone else benefited from them.

"Sshh Sonea. There is no point losing it now. Not everybody is ungrateful, or distrusting. The law is the law and I broke it. My family have a right to their opinions. It is not exactly simple. You of all people know this. I am not going to force myself on people who clearly do not want my company. I think I have done that enough, don't you?"

Less pleasant memories filled her mind at the question, whirling around and changing because of the new information; early recollections of living in the residence, of the forced dinners and civility in public. It was exactly what he wanted her to do and it irritated her that he was able to manipulate her mind so easily. "I changed my opinion. So can they." There was no force behind her words and her head lowered into his lap immersing itself in his clean robes totally removing any element of an argument. Nobody had the energy to continue what had been started last night. It was too close to the end and they both hurt. They were going in circles and it was time to stop.

Resting a lightly tanned hand in her black hair he sighed. It was time to tell her what he wanted her to do. "Will you do me a favour Sonea?"

"Yes," the answer was immediate, muffled by his robes but intelligible all the same.

"When I enter the Arena I want you to come with me. When we get to the centre and I can see the King I want you to take my hand and project what I say so everybody can hear it. I want Kariko to know exactly what I think."

"I can do that." Again the agreement was fast, but he was not finished and he silenced her by continuing.

"I then want to give you all my magic. It will be fast as the King will no doubt have his own idea about how to carry out my execution, cotton onto the plan and prevent it but I would rather I died giving you all the magic I could to help in the coming war. It is an immense waste to let it explode into the atmosphere –"

"Akka –"

"Ah! Let me choose the manner of my death Sonea. I think I deserve that at least considering what I fought for seven years. Let me die giving you something to help kill the Ichani. Call it my contribution. I love this Guild, the people and the surroundings. They have their faults as everybody does, and I know that between you and a few others these will be addressed. Let me buy you the time to do that in my own way. I have lived my life without many choices, let me keep this one."

Sonea wanted to protest but against emotional blackmail of that sort she was defeated before she had even begun. Akkarin had not been the High Lord of the Magicians Guild of Kyralia for five years without a very considerable talent for debate, and all the underhand tricks involved getting what he wanted within that debate. Part of her wanted to strangle him while the other half wanted to smoother him to death, carry him off and hide him from the world's horrible influence. Not likely and difficult considering he had his mind set on this path. It was time to stop being selfish, he was the one staring death in the face, the decisions were his and whether she agreed with them or not she was going to help him.

"Okay. But I hate it. I bloody detest it and I am not ever forgiving the King for ordering it!"

He was going to pull her up on that but decided against it. If things went according to plan she and the King would spend a lot of time with one another discussing yet another controversial topic. Merin was a friend to Akkarin, both men coming into power early. Sonea lacked the inside knowledge he possessed as to how running the country worked. Merin would be as torn up about the turn of events as everybody else but society dictated he remained impassive and objective. The law was clear and ignoring it would paint him in a questionable light. He was a young man, younger than Akkarin, although not by much, and had idolised him as a father and mentor. This betrayal was a very sore thorn in his side and some of his youth showed in his rash decision. Keeping Sonea alive however was a move Akkarin approved of, and not just because he loved her and it heightened their chance of survival.

"Remember, Merin is a man as well."

A derisive noise into his robes and that was the end of that topic. Leaning over her he pressed his lips to the parting in her hair savouring the scent and taste. Sonea would be the last thing he was conscious of before he entered the ether and watched from a place removed from events. His parents had made their views clear and while he mourned the chance to explain things to them he had Sonea and Lorlen who were staying close. There was nothing else he wanted.

Noises from downstairs interrupted their brief respite and Balkan's booming baritone shook the Residence.

It was time.

Climbing from the bed, Sonea and Akkarin clasped hands and left the High Lord's bedroom. For one of them it was to be the last time.

"I still do not buy it! This Sonea is too much of an anomaly to be completely harmless. All it would take for our defeat is for the Guild to get pre warning of our arrival and then she will be allowed access to a store of magic that far exceeds our own! You have seen the way into Kyralia, North or South pass. One of them is guarded by Magicians. All it would take is for one to mentally communicate and that's it! There is no way our arrival can go unnoticed!"

Kariko was going to kill the Ichani. Planting doubts in his carefully manipulated allies was not a clever move; his inexperience was leading down a very dangerous path. "If you do not buy it then leave, cease to be involved with the scheme to free us from the wastes. You would not be the first one to mistrust us."

"If I walk away from this and you do something stupid the King is going to tar me with exactly the same brush! Invading Kyralia is not the answer to the problem! It'll provide a temporary fix at best. The other Allied lands will come to their defence and the people of the country will not go quietly! Your problem is with the King of Sachaka so for crying out loud take it out on him! What do you hope to achieve by doing this, Kariko?"

This question was one he did not wish to answer, it was obvious; revenge, a chance at a new life, a finger in the air to the monarch. Nobody else was trying anything so why shouldn't he? Justifying his actions to himself made him grimace; the wine glass was squeezed tightly. They were passed this stage now, had been passed it for some time. Digression was not happening. "If we remain in Sachaka by killing the King what do we have? We are a country strangling ourselves from the inside, even the "free people" are suffering! I refuse to die here!"

For a minute he thought he saw pity flit across the Elynes face. Whilst this was not something he wanted people to feel for him, if it coaxed more allies over to his side then it was something to manipulate. "Would you like your last sight to be this place?" An expressive hand gesture indicated the wider environment. The glitter from the gods teeth had intensified as the time approached but he knew most of the other Ichani would see the same thing they'd seen for years; desolation.

"No," came the ridiculously cultured response, "but I want my last sight to be "freedom," not yet another war! I am not going to sit here and think once we take Kyralia that'll be it! The Guild, for all their ignorance or not stupid! When it comes to protecting themselves they will not give up without a fight, even if that fight does not come for some time. I do not want to live looking over my shoulder! We have done that enough!"

There was a murmur from some of the Ichani and from its tone it was definitely in agreement. One of them spoke up adding evidence to this assertion, a new speaker from the previous two. "He has a point. How do we know when we take Kyralia we won't have to face the wrath of the King?"

The foreign Ichani had not just earned himself a pasting; he had earned himself a very slow, very painful death. "Because, when we win the Sachakan King will be pleased with us for getting revenge on his old enemy and as a result offer all the help he can in subduing any reinforcements!"

"What if we do not want that bastards help? The whole point is to escape his disruptive influence. If we accept his help then he will instate himself as the Overlord of the new "Sachakan Empire" and we will be back where we started, serving a corrupt, twisted hypocrite."

Kariko took a deep breath. By the expressions on their faces this answer was a crucial one. Suddenly everything he had worked for since before Dakova's death was hanging by that ever present proverbial thread. "What is your name new boy?"

"Marika."

"Marika. Who is to say that the King will have control? I am a convincing man. It will be possible to keep control of Kyralia without selling our freedom. All we need to do is lull him into a false sense of security and strike when he least expects it."

"It will not work! We all know his powers are considerable! For the love of the God's we have all been driven from Arvice by him! After taking Imardin we will all be weaker and in no fit state to deal with him! For all we know he might prefer staying on the right side of the Allied lands! He does not know about the Guilds lack of black magic and then there is this, 'Sonea,' woman who the Kyralian king is keeping alive, who most definitely does know black magic! The Guild's ignorance has been partially addressed now they will not be easy to defeat and we can no longer say to the king, 'oh they don't know black magic and therefore no repercussions will come! "

- Master, it is time."

Having instructed the spy to communicate in the open so everybody could hear and see what was happening in Kyralia, every Ichani sat a bit straighter involved in the conversation. The air was abuzz with other similar sentiments, every magician of the Guild were preparing to watch their High Lord walk to his death, and as was the norm, those who were not present saw the spectacle through their shared mental ability. This meant, helpfully, that the hidden slave was impossible to pick up unless he had messed up in obtaining a servants uniform. Kariko had borrowed him from Avala who had a taste for Elyne slaves, far less conspicuous in a land of people where you could count the number of Sachakan faces on one hand.

The mental communication put an end to the bubbling argument, allowing Marika to cling to life a little longer. He seriously considering taking a leaf out of Harikava's book and pinning his body parts to a stake. If he sent them back to the Sachakan King, with a note explaining there was one less Ichani in the wastes, it may go some way to regaining some favour!

- Go for it

An unobstructed view of what Kariko believed was the Arena flitted across their minds. The angle of the view suggested the slave was watching from somewhere above the structure and a stray thought told him that he was prevented from actually stepping onto the golden sand by an extremely strong magical barrier. This was interesting information he filed away for later. If the Ichani could get a hold of that then there would not be such a problem!

- 'Where is our High Lord?'

The view changed as he turned around to face a thick crowd. Kariko cursed as he realised there were many Magicians in front of his slave and it obscured the view of the path where no doubt Akkarin would appear with a guard and his lover. Some of his distaste seeped across the mind link and the slave replied subservient to the bone. 'The Arena is where Akkarin is to be executed. I guessed you would want a good view of that, and not the approach, Master. If I stood in front of the path it would mean I could not see the Arena because we all turn around'

His irritation changed to a rare moment of contentment. This slave had common sense although, he was not about to say that. 'Make sure I can see everything of this Hanara!'

- Here he comes!

As one the gathered Ichani squinted over the array of different coloured heads to where there was a very faint impression of a path. The argument of earlier was totally ignored as they all watched with intense interest. They were inside the Guild of Kyralia! Hanara moved slightly as the Magicians on either side shifted out of the way to prevent being trodden on. A gap appeared in the crowd and with utter glee Kariko realised Akkarin and his entourage were going to pass along it in order to enter the Arena.

Minutes later the very man he had been waiting to see made his longed for appearance and it was everything he wanted it to be!

Akkarin allowed the guard of twelve warriors to surround him and Sonea and lead them out. Heading them was the King of Kyralia himself, dressed in the royal colour of orange. It accentuated his red hair, tied back in a knot at the nape of his neck in a style Akkarin had worn as the High Lord, and would wear when he drew his last breath. This served to make him look older, always good in a leader who was in his mid- thirties. There had been an argument between him and Sonea as he wanted her to remain outside the protective ring, she was not the one they were executing, but Lorlen allowed it on the grounds it made Akkarin more co-operative.

Having a black magician who was sentenced to death co-operate was always desirable.

Irritatingly nobody explained how it was they wanted to end his life and the walk into the open was a silent one. Unable to see past the wall of bodies as his guard walked with him, he turned his attention to Sonea who was staring pointedly forward eyes and expression hard. Like this she looked as formidable as he expected her to be. The full magicians robes in black coupled with said expression transformed her from the scared dwell he had first seen three years ago thunking Lord Fergun on the head, into a woman, a beautiful woman. Reaching out a hand he clasped hers feeling her warm fingers tighten.

- Can we please fight our way out of here? Her mental voice was strong, there was no hint of begging but he knew her suggestion was serious. By the way she had addressed the king in his residence she would have no problems blasting him and any magician who got in the way to smithereens.

- No, my mind is made up.

They continued to walk reaching the grand white University building and snaking onto another path that took them to the Arena. Akkarin watched it as they passed knowing he'd never see it again. Mouthing a little prayer that it would be still standing to bewitch a new intake of Novices into falling in love with it as he had; he turned to face the Warriors in front and the King who strode with a purposeful gait. Any friendship between the two men was destroyed. The bulky frame of Lord Balkan, head of Warrior Skills, was behind the King, which put him directly in front of Akkarin and he too did not look back or show any sign that the man he was walking to death had been a close friend. Everything was formal, Impersonal and sparse.

Coming into sight of the Arena things just became more unpleasant. The whole Guild had congregated to watch their High Lord face his sentence. Dotted amongst the brown of the Novices and the purple green and red of the magicians were the lighter tones of the servants uniforms. Nobody had taken their seats above the Arena, all waited and watched with a mixture of expressions as he came into their sight. Voices, previously loud fell silent and thousands of pairs of eyes locked on him, bypassing the surrounding warriors and piercing like a thousand forcestrikes. To see the dislike so plainly displayed hammered home exactly the animosity Sonea was going to face in the coming months. Black Magic was a feared act, and because of this people turned it from something with the power to immobilise into something they could use.

Hatred.

Some of the looks Dakova and the Ichani had lavished him with had been utterly murderous, but they had been a limited number of men, this was something completely different. Well over two thousand people dotted around the Arena, and each of them were having their penny's worth of proceedings, taking his digression as a personal insult and acting accordingly. Sonea met their eyes, setting her jaw and glaring back with a glint that dared them to challenge her. Against such an onslaught she reverted back into the tiny slumdweller, determined to fight against an entire institution. With animosity that huge, no matter what she did she was going to be a ceryni in comparison. Akkarin tightened his grip on her hand, feeling the quiver.

It was unclear who caused it though.

The King stopped the procession just before the portal that lead into the Arena. The structure was slightly sunken into the ground which meant any combatant needed to enter using a tunnel that took them to the lower level and came out onto the sand. The War Lord would stand on top of the portal, which was level with the ground and conduct bouts out of harm's way, where he had an aerial view of what was happening. Seeing the structure in a tangible manner, suddenly how the King planned to execute him made sense.

"Akkarin of family Delvon, House Velan, former High Lord of the Magicians Guild of Kyralia, you have been found guilty of the crime of seeking knowledge of, practising, and killing with black magic. The sentence for this crime is execution, to be carried out at midday inside the Arena by six warriors. Are you still going to go quietly?"

There was a loaded silence. Akkarin turned to the King who spoke and bowed deeply causing approving murmurs from the crowd. After a minute had elapsed he returned to standing and spoke, never breaking eye contact. "I have one last request your Highness if you would allow me to ask?"

The King nodded, light eyes narrowing in the sunlight as he regarded his former mentor. "You may ask, Akkarin."

"Allow Sonea inside the Arena with me. I think you will find she is more than capable of defending herself against the strikes that will finish me."

If it was possible the young monarch's eyes narrowed even further, bringing his eyebrows down so they almost hid them. There was a moment where he took note of their clasped hands and it was visible exactly when the penny dropped as to the reasoning behind his request. Surprise forced the red eyebrows back up his forehead and the drastic journey made Sonea inwardly snort, definitely a nervous reaction. Obviously Lorlen and the escort had neglected to mention how their prisoner had spent his final night. "Scared Akkarin?"

"No more so than I was as an Ichani's slave," came the quick answer reminding all who stood there what the story was behind the scene. Suggesting Sonea was able to defend herself against six warriors did not ease anybody's mind either and she would have expected him to keep her out of the limelight as it were, to make her re-integration into Guild society as easy as possible when he was no longer freely available. This whole plan of allowing her into the Arena was confusing to her, but she kept it silent knowing he was following a plan to help them in the long run. She had learned to suspend guessing the reasoning behind what Akkarin did, because nine times out of ten she had it wrong and succeeded in making herself look like a fool. Now was not the time to do that.

Conferring occurred between the monarch and the six warriors picked to carry out the execution. Sonea would need to stand incredibly still and keep a barrier at the skin, in no way shape or form touching Akkarin in case he managed to survive. Amongst those carrying out the execution was the head of Warrior Skills and Lord Garrel, the man whose nephew had caused Sonea so many problems in her first and second year. Anger changed to outright hatred at this. No doubt Garrel was getting pay back for the pasting she had dealt Regin in the Arena, removing the one person who had protected her so effectively.

Swearing profusely she almost missed the Kings consent when all the warriors had replied that they were accurate shots. There was a calculating look in Merin's eyes and she realised there was something underneath his easy consent other than whether or not the warriors were accurate shots. It took Akkarin tugging lightly on her hand to bring her back to the present and even then she resurfaced with the realisation that the six warriors in their escort had moved freeing the way into the Arena.

- He thinks that you defending yourself against six warriors will weaken you so you are easier to control. Are you ready?

- Are you?

Sunlight was briefly covered as they came under the lintel that signalled the beginning of the passage. As they entered the dark they heard footsteps behind signal the Warriors climbing on top of the structure walking around its length so there would be one warrior at every important point. By allowing six people to execute one man, it spread the blame amongst their member and nobody would know for sure who released the strike which killed him. Every Warrior was also older, more comfortable in who and what they were, and their position within the Guild. If one of them had a sudden attack of guilt then there were five others there to offer support. It was an impressive bit of planning by Lorlen and the King.

Kariko watched the tall black figure come into view, partially hidden by the red robed warriors and physically leant forward in his seat. This action was imitated by many of the other Ichani, even Marika although, he had an expression on his face that suggested he was about to throw up. Ignoring this strange behaviour he tilted his head as the watching slave shifted to give a better view of Akkarin and his tiny apprentice.

Robed entirely in black, a carefully blank expression on his face, it was exactly what he had wanted. Except for the attire and the knot at the back of his head he looked exactly like he had as a slave to Dakova. The robes did not hide the slenderness, nor did they disguise the rings under his eyes that made him look haggard and tired. No amount of cold staring and big speeches would hide the evidence of the eye.

"Akkarin of family Delvon, House Velan, former High Lord of the Magicians Guild of Kyralia, you have been found guilty of the crime of seeking knowledge of, practising, and killing with black magic. The sentence for this crime is execution, to be carried out at midday inside the Arena by six warriors. Are you still going to go quietly?"

Hearing the Monarch of Kyralia speak drew his attention to the man who had led the warriors in. With a non to gentle demand Hanara got the King into his line of sight and Kariko filed his appearance away for when he entered Kyralia and went on a King- killing-spree. Unlike their corrupt monarch he looked weak, thinly built and red of hair, a rare colouring to be found in Kyralia. The burnt orange of his robes caused several watching Ichani a laugh, enjoying how it made his white skin even whiter. Many decided he looked like a walking Gan –Gan fruit.

"I have one last request your Highness if you would allow me to ask?"

Akkarin's voice forced Hanara back to the sentenced Magician and his apprentice, who were both stood stony faced. Hanara's mind provided the details he had missed, the bow and the signified subservience and the King's tart reply showed him exactly what the monarch thought about having a black magician ask requests of him. A thrill of excitement ran up Kariko's spine. It was not looking promising for the remaining black magician if she tried to convince the King to let her use her forbidden magic in defence of their country.

"You may ask, Akkarin."

"Allow Sonea inside the Arena with me. I think you will find she is more than capable of defending herself against the strikes that will finish me."

Even inches from his own death Akkarin was trying to make a point! Delightful! So the little ceryni, who looked incapable of squashing a faren with her boot was strong enough to defend against six magicians, was she?

This caused a stir amongst both the Ichani and the gathered guild magicians. Predictably Marika took the threat seriously; unaware of Akkarin's penchant for playing games and as a result tried to stir up more trouble. Reluctantly he tore himself away from the titillating magicians, discussing Akkarin's request and turned his attention to damage limitation.

"What if he is not lying?"

"Even if he is not lying the tone of dislike in Merrin's voice guarantees it is going to be difficult for her! There is no problem here!"

Whilst this appeased some of the Ichani, the argument earlier, coupled with the seed of doubt just planted ensured that the residual doubt within the Ichani grew roots. The light in their eyes dimmed and some of them looked over to Marrika wanting him to speak further.

It was time for the water to cease feeding the sapling.

"Just watch first shall we? For all we know she might sacrifice herself at the last minute and the Guild do our entire job for us!"

Finally the Ichani returned to their previous occupation. Before following suit Kariko accessed some of his magic and allowed it to sit in his palm a silver pulsing globe just large enough to be hidden by his cupped fingers, keeping the Ichani none the wiser to what he was about to do. Marika sat opposite him; arms folded concentrating on the projected spectacle from another country. There was no sign he was prepared for an attack. But with Ichani you could never be sure.

- Come on luck do not fail me now!

Emerging from the other end they found themselves below ground with thousands of eyes on them all looking down. Akkarin looked up at the King who stood beside Lord Balkan on the ledge that surrounded the Arena and his expression was unreadable. There was definitely no regret or sadness in his eyes and it made Sonea even more irritated. This was the man who she would answer to for the rest of her imprisoned life. Callous and cold, all the things she had accused Akkarin of in her time at the Guild, even before as an ignorant dwell.

It seemed she had the wrong man.

Silence fell finally; there was only the sound of the light breeze that provided relief from the intense heat of the summer day; even the shuffling of feet and robes had stopped. Feeling slightly unsettled by it Sonea squeezed his hand, now sweaty. In the silence the King spoke for the final time waiting for the two black Magicians to approach the centre of the Arena, smack in the middle of the stationed warriors. "Any final words Akkarin?"

Yes, hello Guild of Kyralia, hello Ichani of Sachaka I hope you are enjoying the show.

Feeling him squeeze her hand in response Sonea began doing what he had asked of her earlier that day.

– Hello, Guild of Kyralia, hello Ichani of Sachaka I hope you are enjoying the show.

Kariko practically fell over at being personally addressed by both Sonea and Akkarin simultaneously. From the reactions of the gathered magicians they were also being doubly addressed whilst the King remained blank faced. He did not know magic and therefore lacked the ability to hear mental communication!

This just kept getting better!

- I am not going to stand here and say all my decisions were the correct ones, nor am I going to stand here and say black magic is entirely good and you are all fools for not learning it. I put you in this mess and I will pay the price. For years I fought you Kariko, and you Harikava, Avala, Rickacha, and others, in secret. I was too eaten up by shame and guilt that I had sunk to the level of begging, to the level where I murdered to stay alive, to see that the value I placed on my life was too high. I rose myself over others, who suffered considerably worse than I did in the mistaken belief I was better than them, than you Kariko, and your brother. I feared death with the youth of a boy who wanted to fulfil the promise the institution I loved saw in me. I felt it was a sickening waste if I died.

There was my first mistake.

I am not better than you Ichani, I am not superior, nor is my Guild, or my Novice. I should not have feared death because of my wasted potential; I should of feared life and what my continued existence meant to both you and the institution I longed to return to. I can see you Kariko, sat with your glass of wine, surrounded by the other wasteland roamers. I can see the globe of power you hide in your slightly clawed hand preparing to kill the man who has been placing holes in your plan. This war has never been about us. It was in the beginning, when Dakova was still alive. He was a twisted bastard but his aim was to make sure Sachaka was not eaten up by the Wasteland, that when Sachaka was mentioned it did not refer to an endless run of desert. He wanted the Sachakan's to survive as a race, him included naturally, whereas you want survival for yourself. You are motivated by the same thing I was seven years ago.

A selfish, unfounded fear of dying anonymously, just another Ichani banished to fend for himself. Dying to save thousands of others, even if they do not realise it at the time, is better than surviving to see the destruction your death could prevent.

That is not a waste.

Remember what Dakova said, Kariko? Survival was the only way forward and we needed to do it any way possible for our own good? He asked me who would win this war of ours, and I was determined it was going to be me.

There was my second mistake.

I will not win this war of ours Kariko, nor will Sonea although she will be there to clear up the mess your invasion creates. My Guild, the Traitors who work undercover in Sachaka, and the oppressed slaves and Slumdwellers will have the final laugh.

I look forward to meeting you on a similar plane once again Kariko, when our hatred of one another does not affect thousands of others. I am not scared of death.

Are you?

Two things happened at once.

Marika lunged forward from his seat, a ruby red diamond glinting in his ear, previously hidden by the golden hair.

Akkarin released every ounce of his magic into his Novice turning and throwing his body against hers. She yelled as his full weight landed on her, the effect intensified ten- fold as his magic did the same thing.

Thousands of people screamed.

Three bodies hit the floor

Somebody died.

A/N. Hope that all made sense … I am a little concerned about these two chapters. Please tell me in the Reviews.


	5. Do You Believe Me?

**Author's Note**

***peeks up nervously***

**LOOK LOOK AN UPDATE! *Uses it as protection from the angry oncoming horde***

**Hello guys I am so sorry for leaving this story for so long! A combination of National Novel Writing Month and general life distracted me! Fear not though, I am back and will try my utmost not to vanish for so long again next time! Life has been manic, university in Oxford is unreal … the amount of work I need to do should be illegal! But never mind … I will muddle through somehow!**

**This chapter was nasty to write, I literally have about four different versions on my laptop as I couldn't decide which way to go with it. However, a good thing with all this writing is I know where exactly I am going now, and have the next chapter following this one written, all it needs is a final read through and edited and it should be up! (and let's face it …I could just say I was leaving you on an immensely long cliff hanger … Doctor Who- esque! XD)**

**I hope it lives up to the long wait. It is as unpleasant as ever. (Make of that what you will!)**

**Scroll down my lovelies and enter the mind of Administrator Lorlen and Lord Rothen. I assure you probably won't want to stay in there long!**

**HeadlessHedwig**

To Be An Outcast

Chapter Five

"Do You Believe Me?"

'_If this is how the realm of Kyralia is run I don't think I want to be involved in it anymore!'_

Lorlen watched Sonea try and keep her dignity against this onslaught, desperately withholding the desire to put her out of her misery and punch the bastard himself.

'_My friend, why must you continue to place me in these positions?'_

King Merin of Kyralia was on a hiding to nothing. Sonea was a woman held together by willpower and copious amounts of Raka. If he continued to push her as he was, there were those in the room who would not blame her if she set fire to his orange robes. She wasn't even bothering to hide the affect Akkarin's execution had had on her. In fact, if Lorlen didn't know the true state she had been in for two days, he would be sure she was using it as a weapon against the audience. _'Look at me, the Slumdweller wronged so many times, yet still here to defend you, despite the fact you dig yourselves your own graves and should therefore lie in them.'_

Straight backed and stern she could pass for a teacher who had worked at the university for many years. Grief had aged her past all recognition, she looked tired and haggard, yet she still managed to look threatening. Sitting on her left Lorlen could see the dangerous glint in her eyes and firm set to her mouth. He could also see her quivering fists by her sides.

'_I can put her out of her misery and you refuse me it? What has this world come to my friend?' _His thought went unanswered obviously but, under the table he clasped one of her hands out of sight the King and his advisors, and Lord Balkan, Lady Vinara and Lord Sarrin. '_I know you wouldn't mind me giving her this at least.' _The hand that reacted to his was one in dire need of some comfort. If someone didn't try and help her, instead of gaoling her into protecting the city and divulging the extent of her black magic training, she would join Akkarin in the ground, and not because someone had murdered her; although, from where Lorlen stood it would be as good as.

"I said I would protect the city Merin. It is what Akkarin wanted. I don't need you to threaten innocent people just to get me to co-operate!"

Merin disagreed and he disagreed violently. "We need evidence of these Ichani, Black Magician, and since neither you nor Akkarin consented to a truth read, it makes it very difficult to get it. The former High Lord's diaries are 'dangerous material for anyone to read in case they pertain to Black Magic's methodology,' and the one person who can read them I don't trust with my pet rassook. I refuse to prepare my country for a costly war if there is no need. You say you will co-operate without coercion? I am yet to see proof!"

Sonea's fists tightened under the table cutting into Lorlen's skin. "Why would I lie? I have nothing to lose now you murdered Akkarin! I AM co-operating, Merin, to the best of my ability! You are the one who does not want black magic to be common knowledge in case we have another Tagin incident! Commendable, granted, but awkward! Do not blame me for not wanting to corrupt the Guild!"

"I am beginning to think you corrupted it as soon as you set foot through its doors."

Sonea ripped her hand out of Lorlen's and physically gritted her teeth. "C'mon then, prosecute the Slumdweller, who up until three years ago hadn't heard of a force strike let alone Ichani, black magic and whatever else you care to name! DO NOT threaten my aunt and uncle just to get your own way. Your Purge killed my mother, your order killed my lover and now you threaten my relatives? I do not want to work with you Merin. I want to see you rot in hell for what you have done. But I will not, because Akkarin asked me to protect Kyralia. He believes you are human, in the same position as me. He respected you for ruling the country so well at such a young age. So for that reason I will ignore the threat you just made to my Aunt and Uncle, but know this: Akkarin loved and respected you, I don't."

There was a minute's silence as Merin realised he has just been insulted. Before he could speak to chastise her she continued again, looking around the opulent room in which she found herself, meeting everybody's eyes. _'Let them see the Slumdweller in all her angry glory.'_ "Spies in Sachaka would get you evidence too late. Kariko knows Akkarin is dead. He will be here soon no doubt unless he has managed to sneak past the sentries on each of the passes already."

"I cannot help you plan if I am not allowed to leave the Guild or use Black Magic. I am sat here as useless as a noble faced with a day of hard labour. You fear me if I take the Guild's power each day, storing it and letting them regain themselves overnight creating more magic to use in the fight. I understand your fear. I do not paint the most ideal picture for your savour. And I have just admitted that I want to see you rot in hell, so I am not the most trustworthy person either."

"Please, when I joined the Guild all I wanted was to learn to use my power so I could go back into the Slums and heal the dwells. I still only want that. I do not want the infamy and distaste. I certainly never wanted power to influence politics or pick who lives and dies. That seems to be your job, Your Highness. Once this is over rest assured, I will sink into a dark corner, mourn Akkarin and pass the rest of my days healing. If evidence does not come in the next month, then I consent to whatever punishment you wish to give me for lying."

Lorlen watched her from the corner of his eyes. She was positive about this. She would take any punishment the king deemed appropriate. Somehow, he doubted she feared death anymore. Really, all the great King Merin had for bribing purposes was her aunt and uncle. And he was not alone in thinking that it was going a step too far if the increase in fidgeting at the table was anything to go by. Sod the war involving the Ichani, Sonea may cause a civil war all of her own.

Merin looked at both of his advisors. They sat opposite one another, beside him, as he sat at one end of the table and Sonea sat at the other. "If I allow you to store black magic I still need some form of proof that you will not turn it on me for dealing out a punishment I felt fit for 'him.' Your family will be guarded and watched. I will choose the magicians for the job and one of my advisors, just in case the guild begins to soften toward you. At this he gave Lorlen a pointed look saying plainly, '_I can read your thoughts as easily as if you were speaking them Administrator. You have not perfected the cold mask that your former employer wore all of his life.'_

It made Lorlen shiver. Merin was not stupid, he would know that Akkarin's death would hit him hard, since they had once been inseparable friends and he knew that if Lorlen thought him heavy handed with the sentence, other people would think him heavy handed as well. The responsibility of choosing guardians for Sonea's aunt and uncle was now utterly out of his hands. Supporters of the King's family were about to take a very forward role in proceedings. Once again he was powerless to help Sonea in any meaningful way except the occasional words of reassurance. Looking at where that had got them the last time, he was not brimming with confidence.

"Any other conditions Merin?" Sonea asked, hiding nothing.

"I want you shadowed every minute of the day. I mean every minute of the day, if you go to the toilet, if you sleep, when you go for a walk and cry I want to know about it. The first sign of a rebellion; if you sneak off for five minutes of peace, I will assume you do not care about your family and deal with them accordingly."

Lorlen didn't need him to elaborate on what that meant. Once again he tried to reach out to her but her hands were hidden in her lap clasped to one another. Risking a glance down he saw that she was bleeding, but hadn't noticed, too intent on the negotiations for the rest of her life. "Does this mean that, as long as I have these babysitters, I can leave the city and use Black Magic?"

Merin shook his head and somewhere far off a magician swore. "If you need to leave the city for any reason you tell it to one of your body guards and then they will come to me and will decide what to do with it. I do not want you wondering around the city with that amount of power. Murders will only be too easy, and you could get lost in the crowd and escape."

Sonea made to protest loudly but he raised a hand and continued, cutting her off. "These contacts of his will deal directly with me. I don't care what Akkarin says. As soon as they become known to you they will become known to me as well. I also think it is prudent that I have that ring.

Now, instead of anger, Sonea made a sound half way between a yell and a sob. Removed from Akkarin's body had been a red blood gem which she knew had been attached to one of the parties involved in the mental communication before he died. When Lorlen had interred the body, he had returned with it and handed it to her in the hope that having something of his would make a difference to her grieving. She had been turned out of the High Lord's residence, and had spent the night with Lord Rothen and Lord Dannyl. Everyone had noticed that she walked the grounds in his black High Lord's robes, but Lorlen knew that, although they belonged to him, they were not intrinsically his, many a High Lord had worn black robes before him, although, whether it had been those very same ones was debatable. Suddenly his folly came instantly to light.

He swore.

A blood gem was a link to another person. If Akkarin was carrying that when he died then it was an active link to someone who he meant Sonea to meet. If the king took the blood gem then they would lose that link to help. Sonea had told him of the fact Akkarin had said that help would come shortly after he died; was the blood gem it? Did Sonea's demands to have free range of the city have an ulterior motive other than just wanting to be free?

Of cause they did!

He resisted the urge to hide his head in his hands. The King had been told of the blood gems by himself, when he had had to admit to the higher magicians where the red ring had taken to wearing originated from. Since everyone believed that the maker was dead, he had been allowed to keep his, useless as it now was. It now resided in his desk drawer in the office on the ground floor of the university. _'I should have just given her my one!'_

"No." Sonea flatly refused.

"No?" The King clarified in disbelief.

"The gem is mine. The maker is dead, it is utterly useless. Let me keep the memento. You may not be able to say Akkarin's name but I can!"

If it stung, Merin did not show it. "Your family are on a knife's edge Sonea."

Suddenly she was up, the chair flying back with enough force that it skidded across the marble floor for a couple of feet, and then tilted backwards, hitting the floor with its back with an almighty bang. "You cannot threaten me, Merin! I will not take this any longer! You want proof that I won't stab you in your sleep? Well Akkarin is it! He made me promise to help you and Kyralia and I will. I will not disobey a man I loved even if you put him in a grave! If you continue to hurt my family I will make sure they are put somewhere out of reach. I bet you cannot treaty with the thieves as well as me. There will come a day when you will beg me to save your life and I hope you remember this!"

"I agree to your demands about an escort, but I will agree to demands on nothing else. You are going to have to trust me until evidence comes your way that I am lying. Would you like to go down in history as the king who led his country to ruin through his own ignorance?"

Before he could answer, she spun on her heel, making towards the exit. What she yelled next she yelled without even looking behind her. "I am going in circles no longer. If you try and stop me I will use magic to get out. "Remember that every bit of magic I use is a piece of magic that could have killed an Ichani."

"The choice is yours."

The King didn't move.

Rothen was on edge. Today was the first day that lessons had been re-commenced by the King's order and he was covering for Lord Sarrin, who was at a meeting with the King, the other Higher Magicians and his daughter in all but name. It was an attempt to dispel any worry festering within the houses; putting a spin of normalcy on events that been outside of normal for a long time. Everyone was restless, the class he had was one which contained Regin, never a good start, and he was in the process of telling them what his father, an eminent courtier, had learned when Rothen entered.

"Please, Novice Regin, do continue with your little anecdote I could do with a laugh. How far off the mark your father is would do the job nicely."

There was a loaded silence as the class digested the fact that their teacher had openly insulted a man of the houses. It was one of the many signs that things at the Guild were not as they should be and that alone had the power to silence them. The fact mild mannered Rothen was the one to say it made sure they didn't speak unless spoken to.

"Today I wish to see what you have remembered from the previous lesson. So, this lesson will be a test. I will hear no complaints! Things at the Guild have been chaotic and I think it is time we tried to move on, not let it affect our lives for any longer than it has to."

There was a silence and then the sound of many pairs of hands collecting paper and writing implements. Rothen stood in front of the class pointedly not looking at the empty seat in front of him, the one that had once been Sonea's before the High Lord had taken her hostage and dropped this unexpected blast of power on all their lives. He longed for the story to be false, he wanted a reason to hate Akkarin with every fibre of his being, he wanted to go to bed at night and not worry that some foreign magicians with more power than common sense were going to come in and tear the place to shreds.

But, if Akkarin was lying, Sonea would be beside herself. It was already a very slippery slope to depression she was on, one he recognised from losing Yilara. She was so fixed on the story of slavery, so convinced of its truth, that if it was proved wrong, if she realised she had bedded a man who had lied to her not once, but twice, there would be no rescuing her. One death was bad enough; another was just a waste and an offence worthy of Rothen resurrecting the former High Lord just so he could murder him again. Let him really know what torture was!

"Lord Rothen?" Regin's pompous voice drew him out of his reverie and he inwardly gritted his teeth, wanting to be with Sonea, wanting to be with Dorrien and wanting to be with Dannyl, who was fighting rumours set off because of their former High Lord. His novices needed him; to be in this classroom, pretending things were normal, grated so far down to the bone of his sense of right and wrong that he feared it would snap.

"Yes, Novice Regin?"

"Is Sonea not coming back to class today?"

He had to physically close his eyes before answering it. _"That boy is shameless! His father is the head of a prominent house; he has to know what is happening! He is doing this just to wind me up!" _Outwardly he kept calm and replied the negative. "Sonea will not be returning to classes for the foreseeable future Regin, she is attending a meeting and will be away for some time. I know how much that must upset you."

"Is there really an Ichani threat?" Another girl piped up. Her name Rothen couldn't recall and he was in such a state that he didn't even bother to think of it. This test was going out the window; his chance for quiet mental conversations with Dorrien thwarted. "The King is investigating the former High Lord's claims. So far there has been no evidence to prove him, and no evidence to disprove him, either." I am sure once we know what is happening so will you."

"She really knows Black Magic? She really killed someone? Do you believe them?"

There was a collective shiver from them and Rothen actually felt his eyes tear up. He didn't know what to think, he was so confused, but he couldn't tell them that, they needed stability. It was bad enough the Lords were in a tizzy and spreading much unneeded panic, without adding hormonal teenagers to the mix. They would never find out anything if everyone stopped functioning properly!

"Yes, Lord Rothen, do you believe me?"

The voice made every head in the place turn ninety degrees to the right, toward the door where Sonea stood framed, white faced, black robed and looking like death re-animated. "Sonea!" It came out like a gasp, like someone had just punched him in the stomach. Forgetting the others in the room he walked to her and made to pull her into a hug. She stepped back, away from him, eyes as hard as ice. "Do you believe me? Do you believe Akkarin?" She repeated staring at him and everyone else in the room.

"I … Sonea I …"

He trailed off and that was all she needed. There was a doubt there. Not even her adoptive father had full faith in her judgement. She stiffened. "I came to say that my Aunt and Uncle are under constant surveillance. They are to be used as leverage if I turn out to disobey our most esteemed leader, killed; if it turns out I am lying along with me. I am to be tailed to the point where I cannot even go take care of my bladder without Merin knowing about it. I have done something I will never live down, but I would do it again. I believe Akkarin, I believe him with every fibre of my being. I will prove him right."

"I won't be coming back for dinner. You won't want a liar in the house. I wouldn't want to inflict my murdering presence on any one of you."

"Good day, Lord Rothen."

She turned on her heel and made to leave the classroom. Rothen could only watch her go, momentarily tongue tied, unable to call her back. As it was, Regin did it for him.

"Lady Sonea!"

At the sound of a title she hadn't earned she spun around ready to correct the speaker but got as far as opening her mouth just as Regin climbed from his seat and slipped past Lord Rothen to stand in front of her. "I believe you. I believe the High Lord Akkarin."

Stunned, she just gawped at him, her bully; the man who had made her first three years at the guild a living hell. Why would he now change his tune, just when he could be potentially proven right about the questionable position of her moral compass? The rest of the class did so as well, their astonishment only mounting as he reached out his hand and shook hers. "I also apologise for the way I treated you, I deserved that pasting the in Arena."

At a loss for anything else to do she just thanked him.

Regin seemed to think this was enough and swiftly returned to his seat, shoulders straight and head held high, the epitome of dignity.

'_What was he playing at?' _Saying nothing else, not even shaking her head, too exhausted to even begin to suss out his motivations for this very public display of support, she bowed to Lord Rothen and made no attempt to leave the classroom with dignity. She legged it, as fast as her feet would take her, tears streaming like twin streams down the river bed that was her face.

All Rothen and the others saw was a flash of black robes, as she rounded the corner out of sight.

Guilty didn't even begin to cover it.


	6. Something Worth Fighting For?

_**A/N: Apologies for the wait for this chapter. I hope when you read it I am forgiven It drove me mad and I am still not entirely happy. Maybe if I put it out there you guys can help. As ever life has been hectic but I am now hand rearing a foal (baby horse) so am lacking in sleep somewhat! (Feed every two hours, it started off at one!). I am also learning to drive, an achievement for me when I have Cerebral Palsy and never thought I would be able to. *sticks middle finger up at disability* **_

_**The message for this chapter or, rather the question is: "Something worth fighting for?" I am not quoting Mulan but rather asking (Is there) something worth fighting for? Is life really worth such a long hard slog? I have fought for acceptance for so many years because I am disabled and recently lost sight and hope that I could be "normal." I stopped writing and lived as a hermit for several months. Thankfully I got a grip because of some amazing people and am being presumptuous enough as to pass on some advice to anyone who reads this: Go for your dreams guys; don't let anything hold you back. It's going to be hard, at times it'll seem impossible, but never give up. There will be people who presume to know you, try and put you down and events that'll knock you so far down rock bottom is but a distant memory. No matter what, YOU have the power to pick yourself up and go on. I have learned that sometimes the only thing holding you back is yourself. Keep going and I hope (like me) you find yourself pleasantly surprised. **_

_**HeadlessHedwig (Emily)**_

Chapter Six

"Something Worth Fighting For?"

"_I was too late!"_

Against a silver backdrop the silhouette of a man with a spade was clearly visible, partially obscured by trees. Mud was flying through the air regularly, accompanied by breathless foreign curses. Thankfully they were miles from the Guild proper and the only people who were going to see were the servants who avoided the area where the magicians once buried their dead. Hopefully, if one of the servants were unlucky enough to look out of their window, they would just account any stray movement to ghosts. That was if by some utter miracle, they didn't understand as the Guild now did the reason why there were once again magical bodies to bury and furthermore, equate the swearing man with the recent demise of their High Lord.

Mathematics whizzed through his frantic brain at a pace that matched the one of the string of rude Sachakan. It had been twenty-four hours, at least, since Akkarin's burial. If Lorlen had done what he promised to do, his 'deceased' friend could survive underground for just over a day, much better odds than the two hours one normally survived. "_Stupid idiot, why did I agree to this plan?' _

'_Because it was the only one you had,' _came the grudging response.

'_Magicians are just as useless underground! It's all well and good being able to prevent an avalanche but they can't magic oxygen from nowhere with their fancy talent!' _

He grumbled all the more, reminded of Akkarin's reply when he had been asked to explain this mad plan of his characteristically blunt and sarcastic. Most of his memories of Akkarin centred on the many meals they had in the residence, which was now being prepared for the next unfortunate idiot who was taking over Akkarin's post. When it was just the two of them, Takan would cook and they would both sit and discuss what was happening; the origin of their current mental scheme. Akkarin always appreciated these discussions, not because it took him away from the political nest of the King for an hour or two, but because he swore blind that there was no better food anywhere. These compliments were what Takan would have liked to remember; his friend's attempt to raise his servant's low self- esteem.

'I don't want to just _remember_ them!'

Despair, never a distant companion, flooded him and he almost dropped the spade.

The Thief Ceryni, as much as he was a help, had become the worst hindrance in existence. Since it had been found that Sonea was being tried for the same crimes as the High Lord and could therefore, face the same penalty he had been beside himself. Angry that Akkarin had gotten Sonea into his mess, he had paced and cursed and become unbearable, getting no better when news filtered through that Sonea would be spared but she would live under Guild arrest for the rest of her life. What had followed of Takan was what he could only describe as a "grilling." Suddenly, what had become a comfortable enough place to hide became a prison. Debates raged as to whether or not the assassins would stop now their target was dead. It was obvious that the Thief had toyed with the idea of letting them get on with it out of spite, withdrawing all of his previous help. Thankfully, he was a decent man, and the woman he had recently begun sharing his bed with had convinced him that it meant both his death and the entirety of Kyralia's.

So, hours later than planned, Takan had been apologised to and the guard on him relaxed enough so that he could sneak out and carry out the second half of his and Akkarin's scheme; without Sonea, Ceryni, Lorlen and the others any the wiser.

_It's all for nought though if I left this too late!_

The source behind the array of Sachakan swear words altered at this thought, somewhere, in an underground lair of his own, Cery felt his ears begin to burn.

_Thunk!_

His spade finally hit off something that was not soft mud. Discarding it, he got down on all fours on top of it and began throwing mud out with his hands totally mindless. Soon, the lid was uncovered and he squirmed down, feeling with his fingers for the place where the lid met the sides. This was where magic would have come in handy; where, since Lorlen was already partially aware of the scheme, he would have been useful. But Akkarin had been clear and so, using only his strength, he had to lift the lid of the thing on his own, sweating but for once silent, lacking the energy to swear about the situation.

'_Come on, come on be awake and help me with this you irritating magical dunghead!'_

No such luck. It was with a muffled suck and thump that the lid lifted from the long side of the coffin, reached its highest point and then fell backwards, landing on the grass opposite. He collapsed, half in and half out of Akkarin's resting place.

The former High Lord was cold and lay unmoving. He had been buried in commoner's clothes, no doubt the clothes he had walked to his death in. Stripped of his position and his title as he had been, his grave had been set apart from the older graves, missing the shelter of the ancient trees and the bird song. Hidden in a far corner, it was hard to see the new marker, which stood out against the older members and it only read: _"Akkarin."_

The Guild wanted to forget about the man who had led them so well from such a young age. They wanted to ascertain the lies they believed he told them and make sure nobody ever spoke of him again. How Lorlen had convinced them to bury him, instead of wiping his body out of all existence, especially when he had gone against their wishes right up until his very last breath, was to remain a mystery.

Thankfully though, he had.

Takan sobbed. One hand rested above the heart of his former friend and master, hoping to feel its beat through the cloth of his shirt. It seemed so strange. During their time as Dakova's slaves Akkarin had been abused and beaten to within an inch of his life, to the point where Takan had wondered how he managed to get up anymore. All that time, in the rare moments when they had been allowed to share a tent, huddling together for warmth, he had always been aware of the steady beat of his friend's heart, withstanding everything and continuing life as stubbornly as Akkarin did. On the run from Kariko, when they had made their return to Kyralia, it had remained as strong and fast; the music that he fell asleep to in their customary huddle.

Takan knew what had sustained that stubborn heartbeat; had heard his master mutter in his sleep about it, reciting names and lessons in an effort to remain sane. It was a sick, sick joke that the thing that had kept him alive so long killed him in the end.

Of all the pain and betrayal that Takan had survived, first with the Traitors and then with the Ichani, this was the worst. It stung all the more because he had come to like the institution his master fought so hard to protect in a way he had never liked Sanctuary or The Wastes. After so long as a servant/slave he had never thought to like any institution, as he believed they all fought for power and influence. He served men and women because that was all he knew, and he was not one who wanted to rise above his station, become embroiled in the many plots for power everyone else seemed content upon. No, all he wanted was to serve someone worthy of it, someone who remembered he was a human with the ability to give his loyalty freely.

He had found that someone, and the machinations and pride of an institution of men and women had snatched him away, believing they held the power to decide who lived or died.

The Guild as an institution, were bastards.

'_What do I do now?'_ Akkarin was dead. The Traitors were going to be mightily pissed off, and their plans of taking down the Ichani were in tatters. Sonea was truly alone. No one knew what had happened when Marika had attacked Kariko, except perhaps the Traitor woman Cery now shared his bed with, and it seemed their bargain was a similar one to the one Akkarin had struck with him many years ago. Need to know. Sometimes secrecy, albeit a necessary evil, was too evil. The only thing he could think of to do was divulge the entire secret and then go into hiding, return to The Traitors where he had begun and eat humble pie, least then he would be aware of what the Ichani and the Traitors planed for their troublesome neighbour.

'_If I return to the wastes I will lose any chance of helping Sonea.' _She was a girl as tried and tested as any slave. She was supposed to help the Guild against an enemy she had only just begun to grasp herself, with a talent that she was still learning and one which meant nobody would teach her, too fearful and ignorant for their own good. Respect had been ingrained into his upbringing, something he stuck to and hid behind no matter what the cost. It was part of the reason he had listened to Akkarin when he had ordered him away, trusting that the man knew how to work the guild he had ruled over for so many years. But that had gotten them in this mess. He had followed his upbringing religiously, serving masters and mistresses even when they no longer directly affected his life. Abstaining from learning how to harness his power had been a sacrifice to the Traitors; his first Mistresses, who said that because he was male and not a natural he was not fit to learn their secrets. It was a belief many Sachakans shared so, it had to be one of the only certain things in a country of uncertainty. Hadn't it? He had never disrespected them, nor his Ichani Master who had followed after. He still followed the ritual of master/slave with Akkarin and he had served Traitors, the Ichani and Kyralian Magician to the best of his ability, as he had promised at the start, taking the abuse and the ingratitude as part of the job; they were his superiors.

'_My place is to serve better men.'_

He was deluding himself.

The men and women he had served had not been better. What was more when he looked back; no matter how he dressed it up he had disobeyed and disrespected everybody he had served even though he had abstained from learning how to use his power. He had done it, not because they had ordered him, but because it was a belief his society as a whole believed. He ran away from The Traitors, disrespected them and disobeyed them and he had been punished by his life in The Wastes with Dakova. He had been respectful to the Ichani by not being the one to kill them, and he had not learned black magic because it was the power of men born above his station. But, he had still helped the man who had killed them, provided food and allowed him to take magic to help fight the slaves.

His life of obedience and respect was at an end. It had been as soon as he had chosen his own master, one who respected him back.

"Yes, my life is to serve better men, but Dakova and the Traitors were not better. No, they were hunters fighting over the dead carcass that was Sachaka. Akkarin was nowhere near perfect, but he was the closest thing I had in this life.

"Don't you dare leave me now you meddling magician!" Distraught and angry he lashed out, slapping his dead friend and master on the chest. The fight was not over yet, it was not the time to put down the swords and clear up the bloodshed. _'I saved your life so you could finish this, I did not save your life so you could sacrifice yourself for an institution with more power than sense! The world is bigger than this guild; they are not the only ones who need rescued!'_ Finally the sobs broke their banks and he cried like a baby sinking down further into the dark and obscuring his face in the chest of his best and worst master, all the time battering him with his fists, furious that he was now left alone with a difficult choice. Sonea needed him, let her be the one to whom he pledged his freed loyalty. He loved her for what she had done for Akkarin in the time she had known him, putting aside her prejudices and deciding to help keep him alive. It was too hard to continue alone, without someone to direct his actions. But, no matter how much he liked her, appreciated what she had done, he wanted to serve the one man who had freed him from slavery. He wanted Akkarin. "Damn you Akkarin; damn you guild and damn you Ichani for putting me in this mess!"

"If you continue to make such a racket we are going to be found. Then how do you suppose we explain what you are up to, Takan?"

He almost choked. Reacting like a magician had just shocked him with a blast of power he was up locking onto the owner of the voice and squealing with the same pitch as a young girl.

Akkarin smiled flashing white teeth the same colour as the full moon and immediately obvious in the black of the night. "Nice to see you to. Do you mind, this is not the most comfortable sleeping arrangement."

An icy cold hand was offered and Takan took it, managing to disguise the flinch as five points of extreme cold locked around his wrist pressing down weakly. Pulling his master up to a sitting position he watched as soil and other detritus travelled down the white shirt he wore, piling between his legs and making a scuttering noise as they went. A wave of dizziness must have assaulted him because he took a moment before straightening his back fully, looking down and steadying his breathing. "You cut that fine," he said when he finally straightened. "I must have passed out from lack of oxygen."

"Apologies master, Ceryni was not the most helpful in the plan's execution."

Before Akkarin could answer that he found himself hugged so hard the breath '_wooshed_' out of him. Takan was beside himself, golden hair, more brown than gold tickled his nose and sobs muffled themselves in his threadbare shirt. It was an odd feeling. Takan was warm where Akkarin was freezing, even his tears which were travelling down his skinny back were giving out heat, but he didn't do physical shows of affection unless it was serious. Sonea had been a revelation in her insistence to touch him. It had not been a touch brought about because of desire until the end, but the complete lack of fear which had pervaded her movements had been more than enough. Takan's sudden desire to be near him was one that needed to be stamped out. Gingerly, he settled his arms around his willing servant. "I'm okay."

His servant finally released him flailing behind himself with his hands and seeking out the change of clothes he had managed to gain from Cery. They had been for himself, but should fit Akkarin well enough, even though he was as skinny as a tree branch. Akkarin took the opportunity to now get himself out of the coffin, half crawling in his attempt to remove himself from the hole in which he had been buried. Takan waited until he had managed to sit cross legged with his back to it before handing over the change of clothes and then turned his own back, beginning the arduous task of re-assembling Akkarin's burial spot so everyone would remain ignorant.

It took a painfully long time for him to muster up the energy it took in order to get dressed. The world was spinning far faster than it should, and he was shivering violently from the extreme cold. It felt like it originated in his bones radiating outwards in fresh waves and giving him the distinct impression that he was never going to warm up no matter how hard he tried. The thought of removing his thin layer was one he didn't relish, even though they were being replaced by cleaner, warmer ones and so he settled on putting the new clothes on top of his old ones. Sonea would have had something to say about that but he pushed the thought of her out of his mind. It was no good to dwell on the past, she had to live with his mistake be the physical reminder that just because he was gone, didn't mean the problem was. It didn't stop his body remembering how extremely warm she had been, how extremely willing, and how extremely talented. It was telling him firmly that she was the answer to how cold he felt, would have him cursing the heat within ten minutes of locating her, but it was a desire that just was not going to happen, no matter how much he wanted it. He had hurt her enough.

"What news of the Ichani?" He asked, in an attempt to block out how cold he felt. Behind Takan shuddered not really wanting to return to that subject so soon. It put a big black mark on his newly found happiness and for once in his life he wanted to remain in the land of self- delusion. Clearly not happening. "They have remained in Sachaka; I think your ploy has unnerved them a bit. I am not overly sure of what happened with the Traitor, I don't want to put on your blood ring. You are to meet a representative in the early hours of the morning and they will brief you."

"Good, this whole sorry mess has bought them some time."

Takan was saved much more throwing of mud when Akkarin turned back and directed his magic at it causing it to fill the hole with great speed. _'A demonstration of how power can be used to manipulate people and things if ever I saw it.'_

"Let's go before we are seen."

For a long time Takan had wondered what it was that caused men to fight so viciously for so little reward, so passive in his own life as he had been for so long. Many answers had come into his mind; power, freedom, greed. None of those reasons made much sense to him and in honesty they still didn't; but, that was because they were the antagonist in his life and therefore, tainted. The answer was simple.

They believed they had something worth fighting for.

Looking at the black figure of Akkarin walking beside him, straight backed and unapproachable as ever, but thinking of the woman he was leaving behind to face the machinations of the guild, he decided he had found it.

Within the Magician's Quarters another man chasedhis own reason.


End file.
